Broken Things
by JayLin2314
Summary: Two years after season 8, a Blade mission goes wrong, and Keith is perceived to be dead. Lance refuses to believe that, and goes in search of him. What he finds, however, is worse than anything he imagined.
1. Chapter 1

Chapter One

**Present Day:**

Lance paused to wipe sweat from his face with the collar of his shirt. He was reaching for the water bottle lying in the dirt beside the row he'd been planting when a sharp and unexpected sound cut through the quiet mid morning air. He spun around, excitement flooding his chest.

The front lawn of his family's house was not visible from the field where he knelt, but that bark could only mean one thing.

Not bothering to finish his work, he hurriedly packed up and sprinted toward the back door.

He was sweaty.

He was probably a little sunburned.

He most likely smelled gross.

There was dirt on his pants from where he had been kneeling in the field.

But none of those things mattered.

What was a little sweat and dirt when someone had already seen you at your absolute lowest point and had not judged you for it?

He dropped his tools in the shed behind the house, trying not to grin like a maniac. It had been too long since the last visit.

Not bothering to brush the dirt from his clothes, Lance slipped in the back door, kicking off his boots.

He could already picture how this was going to go down: Kosmo would leap at him first, demanding to be patted, and of course Lance would oblige. He would focus all of his attention on the wolf until he heard the voice he'd been missing laugh and tell Kosmo to leave Lance alone. He would be helped to his feet by a gloved hand – barely even given a chance to glimpse the man before him before he would be pulled into a hug. He would squeeze back, laughing, and when they separated, he would be faced with a bright smile that never failed to make his day better.

Lance could feel his heartbeat increase in anticipation as he followed the soft sound of voices, making his way toward the dining room.

Kosmo was the first to greet him – just as he knew he would be – zapping out of thin air in front of Lance as he approached the open doorway.

Except Kosmo usually greeted him with an excited bark and a leap so powerful it knocked him off his feet. There was no bark this time, however; no excited ball of fur and slobber flying at him.

Kosmo only stepped forward, bumping his head against Lance's thigh, and whined.

Lance was immediately on his knees in front of the animal, stroking the long fur around his cheeks.

"Hey, buddy," he crooned. "What's wrong? Has Keith been mean to you? He can be like that sometimes but we both know he doesn't mean it."

"Lance?"

"Yeah, I'm here," he called in answer to his sister's voice from the dining room.

"Can you come in here please?"

Lance frowned as he rose to his feet. Something was off about this. Kosmo wasn't happy and his sister sounded strangely solemn. Kosmo stayed close to his side as he rounded the corner and entered the room, taking in the scene that lay before him.

One of Veronica's hands rested on Acxa's back as she slumped forward in her chair.

Lance's eyes traveled from the two women, peering around – checking every corner of the room. "Hey, where's –"

"Lance," Veronica cut him off.

Tendrils of fear began to curl through his stomach, reaching for his heart. "What's going on?"

Acxa raised her head – and the fear took hold, squeezing with an iron grip. She wiped at the tear-streaks on her cheeks, clearing her throat. "Our last mission… something went wrong. Everything went wrong." Her eyes met Lance's across the room, and he felt the world caving in around him. "Keith's not here, Lance. We lost him."

Lance stared at her, unblinking. His jaw clenched as his lips pulled down at the edged into a scowl. "Well go find him."

"_Lance_." The warning was sharp and clear in Veronica's voice.

"What?" Lance demanded. "If he's lost then we have to find him! He would never leave anyone behind. You know he –"

"Lost as in gone. Lost as in _dead!_"

It was as if Acxa had hurled a knife across the room – the blade burying itself deep in Lance's chest. He tried to draw in a breath, but Acxa's words beat down on him, getting louder and louder with every tumultuous thud of his heart: _Lost…gone…dead…lost…gone…dead…lost…gone –_

"No."

"I'm sorry, Lance." Veronica moved around the dining room table, arms held out as if to comfort him.

But Lance had been expecting different arms. He had been expecting warmth and smiles and happiness. "No!" he repeated, denial settling into his heart and taking root. "You're lying."

"You know we would never lie about this." Veronica's eyes were gentle and sad. She continued toward him, but Lance backed away.

"Please –" his ribs were squeezing his chest too tightly for him to finish the sentence. He could feel his heartbeat reverberating through every inch of his body – pounding in his ears like a drum. _Please – you don't understand. I need you to be lying. Please let him walk through the doorway any second now and reprimand everyone for being so cruel to his poor, broken friend._

"There was an attack." Acxa's voice sounded muted and far away over the pounding in his head. "We were on Morath, doing relief work. The attack came out of nowhere. Initially, we thought it was a planetary raid, but it soon became clear that we were the intended target. We were able to get to cover, but our enemy did not let up. There were ships all around us, landing on the planet's surface. Keith ordered us to make a run for our ship while he held them off. We barely made it in time before the explosion hit. There was smoke and fire everywhere. I could barely see anything through it all – but I caught a glimpse of one of our enemies dragging a body away from the flames and onto their ship. I saw – I saw the trail of blood he left up the ship's ramp."

"But you don't actually know." Lance's head was swimming as he tried to focus on anything except the picture Acxa's story had left in his mind's eye. "He could still be alive."

Acxa's eyes narrowed. "I know how much blood is a fatal amount, paladin. And even if I am wrong – even if he survived the explosion and his injuries – it was the Galra who attacked us. Surviving Galra from the prime of the Empire. I know how they treat half-breeds like us." She angrily swiped at another tear that escaped her lashes. "Except it will be worse for him. These Galra factions view Voltron as their mortal enemy. They will know exactly who he is, and they will consider him directly responsible for the current state of their miserable lives."

"I don't believe you." Acxa started to snap at him, but Lance cut her off, his voice hoarse and choked. "No, I don't fucking care what you say. I _won't_ believe you until I actually see him for myself!"

The chair clattered to the floor as Acxa shot out of her seat, fists clenching at her sides. "I know you never liked me, but the least you could do is remember that he was my friend, too! Don't you think I tried to do everything in my power to save him? Who are you to judge me, anyway? At least I was there! At least I've been there for him when he needs me, instead of just the other way around!"

"Acxa!" Veronica tried to reign in the quickly escalating situation, positioning herself between her brother and her girlfriend.

Lance wanted to lash out at her. He wanted to scream and yell and hit something as hard as he could…except she was right.

How many times had Keith been there for him? How many times had he been there without Lance ever having to ask? And what had Lance ever done to return that kindness?

_You weren't there._ The words whispered through his mind, slithering around what little confidence he had been able to build up over the past two years. _You weren't there for him…and now it's too late._

_Too late._

It was like a chisel driven into the protective layer around his heart, cracking the shell and leaving his emotions vulnerable and exposed.

Lance was on the ground, unsure of how he had gotten there. His knees stung and his chest burned as he tried to draw in breath. From somewhere above him, he vaguely heard his sister speaking soothing words – a hand on his back, rubbing over his shoulder blades and down his spine.

Water dripped onto his hands as he gasped for air, and some still controlled corner of his mind supplied the correct word: _Tears_.

_I can't – I can't do this. I can't lose him, too. I can't lose him…_

"We have to tell the others," he heard Veronica say, her voice grim. "It will be easier if they are all together." There was a pause and then an arm was wrapping around Lance's shoulder, giving him a squeeze. "Lance, you should come, too. It will be good for you to be with everyone."

After the warmth of her arm left his back, he still could not bring himself to move from the floor. A gentle nudge at his elbow, and a soft whine finally drew him out of his stupor. Kosmo's wet nose nuzzled against Lance's cheek, and he buried his face in the wolf's fur.

"I'm sorry, buddy," Lance croaked. "I wasn't there for him. I wasn't there, and now I will never –"

He grunted in surprise as Kosmo bowed his head and took Lance's hand in his teeth. He expected to feel pain as the wolf bit down, but Kosmo just held his hand lightly in his jaws, giving it a small tug.

Lance pulled away to look at the animal. The wolf was staring at him, and something about his eyes made Lance's tears subside.

A soft growl issued from the wolf's throat, but it was not an aggressive sound. It was almost as if he was trying to convey a message.

It wasn't a ridiculous idea, either, the more Lance thought about it. Kosmo was not just an ordinary wolf, after all. He had an intelligence about him, and a strong connection to his master.

Lance drew back further, looking at the animal with wide eyes as an idea occurred to him. A wild idea that came so out of nowhere, he almost wondered if Kosmo had been able to implant it into his mind. "You don't think he's dead, do you?"

Kosmo's jaw opened, releasing Lance's hand, and he gave it a lick.

"Okay." Lance stared at him in awe for a moment because reaching up to stroke his ears. "Okay, then, bud. I'm going to find him."

Kosmo let out a bark, lunging forward and tackling Lance to the ground. 

The rest of the team was already present when Veronica, Acxa, and Lance walked into Shiro's office at the Garrison.

Pidge was in the middle of describing the work she was doing with her mother to crossbreed alien plant-life with earth's to create better medicines for all life on the planet. She stopped as they walked in, looking up from where she perched on the edge of Shiro's desk. Shiro looked up as well, getting to his feet as he saw who had entered, a warm smile on his face.

"Hey!" Hunk jumped up from the couch, greeting them all with a wide, bright smile and a wave – before he noticed the expressions the three of them wore. "Um…guys? What's going on? Why did you call us all to meet here? I thought it was just because we were all on Earth at the same time."

It had been a while since they had all been in the same place at the same time, Lance realized.

_Except we're not,_ his mind supplied. _We might never –_ He shook the thought off before it could be finished

Veronica was saying something to Hunk that Lance didn't hear because as she spoke, he felt eyes on him. He had not even attempted to mask the pain on his face, or the redness of his own eyes – and he knew Shiro could see something was wrong the minute Lance turned to look at him.

Shiro held his gaze for a long moment, taking in the state of his face; the posture of his body, before his eyes dropped to look at the wolf at Lance's side. Lance saw it the moment the thought entered Shiro's mind. His eyes widened, a flicker of disbelief flashing across his face. He placed one hand on his desk as if to steady himself as his eyes found Lance's again – the look in them plainly saying _Please tell me it's not that._

And Lance had to look away because he wasn't sure he could handle watching Shiro break down.

His fingers wound through Kosmo's fur, trying to find anything to grasp onto that would provide even the most miniscule speck of relief and comfort.

"Hey, if you're here, does that mean Keith's coming, too?" Pidge's voice broke through the soft buzzing in his ears. "It's kindof weird that Kosmo's here without him. Lance did you steal Keith's wolf?"

He couldn't look at her. He couldn't look at any of them. He pressed his lips together, clenching his teeth – trying to hold himself together.

"Just say it." Shiro's quiet command filled the room.

There was one breathless moment of silence before Acxa began to speak.

"No, Keith will not be joining us," she said. "We were attacked during our last mission. He held them off while we got to the ship but…there was an explosion. The last I saw of him, he was bleeding and unresponsive and being dragged onto the enemy's ship." She drew in a breath, straightening her spine. "Even if by some miracle he survived, he was captured by a gang of rogue Galra from the days of the Empire. He is a half-breed, and a former paladin of Voltron. They will not keep him alive for long. And if they do…he will be better off dead."

"So…we're going to go get him, right?" Ever the optimist, Hunk didn't wait for the news of Acxa's report to sink in and drag them all down. "He could still be alive, so we have to get to him before they can do anything bad. We have to leave now!" He looked around at the faces in the room. "Right?" When no response was forthcoming, he tried again, his confidence wavering. "Lance?"

Lance raised his head, then, eyes cold as he looked at Acxa. "Like she said, they think he's already dead. They think any attempt at a rescue is hopeless." He paused, fierce determination settling into the pit of his stomach. "I don't give a fuck what they think." He turned to Hunk, who's eyes widened a little at the look on his friend's face. "I am going after him. I am not giving up on him because he can't be –" The reality of the unsaid words crashed into Lance so suddenly and without warning, he almost had to gasp for air. "He can't –" he tried again, and failed.

"Keith is a survivor." There were moments when Lance forgot how small and young Pidge actually was. The way she held herself now – the way she spoke, the expression in her eyes – commanded everyone's attention. "More than any of us. More than anyone I have ever met. And he is a part of this team. If there's even the slightest chance he's still alive, we have to find him."

"We have no way of knowing where he was taken!" Acxa protested.

"I found my brother when there was no hope and no leads! We go back to the planet where you were attacked and we find a clue! We ask around; we start somewhere. We do _something_." Pidge jabbed a finger in Acxa's face. "It sounds like you don't even want to try. I thought he was your friend, too!"

"You weren't there!" Acxa's temper flared up again. Hunk tried to intervene, but she spoke over him. "You didn't see what I saw. You don't know what I know about the Galra! What you are suggesting is either going to turn into a dead end or a suicide mission."

"That doesn't matter," Lance cut in before Pidge could respond. "He would do it for us. He would have already left. We're wasting time standing around here."

"And what if you find nothing?" Acxa snapped. "What if you make all that effort only to find –"

"He's not dead!" Lance's shout silenced the room. "I can't have someone else die! I couldn't do anything to save Allura, but I can do something now." He looked around at the faces staring back at him – worried, sorrowful, startled. "It's Keith. Please, Acxa – it's _Keith_. We have to try."

No one spoke. They exchanged glances, apparently unsure of what to say after the outburst; unsure of what to address first – the present issue, or the lingering one from the past.

It was Shiro who finally broke the silence.

"Keith was the black paladin. Even though Voltron is gone, he was still the leader, and that will never change. Lance was the red paladin, and in Keith's absence, Lance is in command. We do as he says." Shiro did not wait for a response as he stepped around his desk and walked out of the room.

Lance stared after him, dumbstruck for a moment, before he whirled and hurried after the man.

Shiro didn't stop walking when Lance called after him the first time. Thinking he must have just not heard, he called again, louder.

Shiro halted, his back to Lance. As Lance approached, he slowly turned, and Lance found himself staring into the glistening eyes of his childhood hero.

Before Lance could speak, however, Shiro dropped a heavy hand onto his shoulder. "Thank you –" his voice was steady, despite the unshed tears. "For not giving up on him. It will mean more to him than you know."

"There is no way any of us would have –"

"No, Lance." Shiro's face softened. "Because it was you who made the decision first."

"I don't see why that would –"

"Lance," Shiro interrupted. "Think about if your situations were switched. If you had been captured and he was here, hearing the news. What would he be doing right now?"

After Allura had sacrificed herself and they had all returned to Earth, Lance had tried time and again to push Keith away. He had needed Keith in that time – he had needed to not be alone and to not feel isolated – but he hadn't had the courage to admit it. But no matter how distant he was, or whatever cruel, spiteful words he hurled at Keith during those times, he had remained resolute. He had stayed. He had shown up on Lance's doorstep, or woken up early to help in the fields after Lance's family started the farm. He had slept on the uncomfortable couch and attempted to cook breakfast in the mornings. He had been there to talk if Lance needed. He had been there to just sit quietly – doing no more than making his presence known. Proving to Lance that he was not alone; that he would never be alone.

"Whatever it takes," Lance whispered, feeling tears prickle at his eyes.

"Whatever it takes," Shiro echoed, removing his hand and turning to leave. "That is what he would do for you. He would never ask you to do the same. He would never expect it. That is why I am thanking you. Because he deserves to know that you – that someone would do the same for him in return. I am going to inform the Garrison what has happened and request Pidge and myself be given time off from our duties so we can fix this."

Lance watched Shiro's retreating back until he rounded a corner and disappeared from view, the man's words plaguing him.

_He does know, doesn't he?_ But all Lance could hear was Acxa's voice echoing through his head: _At least I've been there for him when he needs me, not just the other way around!_

Keith had to know how much he meant to Lance – to all of them.

Except Lance knew he had never actually spoken the words out loud – and if he hadn't, he doubted the others had, either.

The farther his thoughts traveled down that path, the stronger one nagging doubt became, nudging its way to the forefront of his mind. 

_What if you're too late? What if he dies believing no one cared enough to go after him? What if he dies thinking he meant nothing to you?_

It took all of Lance's willpower to shove the thought away. He could ask himself _what ifs_ all day long, but it wouldn't do any good.

Turning sharply on his heels, he headed back to the office to rejoin the rest of the team and figure out a plan of action. 

_If your situations were switched…what would he be doing right now?_

Lance realized it didn't matter if the situations were switched or not. The answer would always be the same, either way. 


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter Two

**Twenty-One Months Ago:**

_"I'm leaving tomorrow with Krolia and my wolf."_

_ Lance made a face at Keith's continued refusal to call the animal by the name they had all agreed upon earlier. He busied himself, clearing away the empty containers of take-out that littered the coffee table. "For how long?"_

_ "I'm not really sure. But probably at least a couple deca-phoebes."_

_ The container Lance had just picked up slipped through his fingers and dropped to the floor. Grains of rice and the remnants of sauce spilled onto the carpet. Before either of them could move, Kosmo zapped through the air and greedily lapped up the spillage._

_ Lance bent down to pick up the container, trying to hide the slight trembling of his hands. "Well, at least we don't have to clean up. Should he even eat that stuff? Is it bad for space wolves?"_

_ "Who knows? He grew up eating these crab creatures and whatever else we could find in the quantum abyss – plus whatever we had on hand in the lions, so I think he can probably eat whatever he wants." Keith paused, then added thoughtfully. "I haven't given him chocolate, though, just to be safe."_

_ Lance's lips pulled into a smile, but it was tight and did not reach his eyes – and immediately dropped from his face as he turned and trudged to the kitchen._

_ Once there was a wall separating him from Keith in the living room, he let out a shaky breath, blinking against the stinging in his eyes._

_**Don't be an idiot,**_ _he reprimanded himself, letting the contents of his arms_ _drop into the garbage._ _**You've taken him away from everything far too much already. He has his own life to live. It's not his problem that you haven't figured out how to live yours again. It's not up to him to fix you. **__He stepped over to the sink to wash his hands, letting the noise of the tap drown out his tearful sniff._

_ "Lance?"_

_ He hadn't heard Keith approach, and jumped a little in surprise. "Jesus, man! Don't sneak up on me like that."_

_ "You're going to be fine. You know that, right?"_

_ Lance couldn't look at him. He shut off the water, reaching down for a dishtowel before placing both hands on the edge of the sink. "Yeah, of course. I don't need you. You've got more important things to focus on. Go and save the universe!"_

_ There was a moment of silence, and then he heard the soft padding of Keith's feet on the kitchen floor as he came to stand beside Lance. He folded his arms across his chest and leaned one hip against the counter. "You're right. You don't need me. You're stronger than you think." There was a pause, and when he spoke again, his voice was soft, "But that doesn't mean I won't be here for you."_

_ "But you won't." Lance hadn't meant to say it out loud._

_ Keith's hand found his shoulder, and he gently but firmly turned Lance around so they were facing one another. "Hey. Just because I am not physically here with you doesn't mean we're going to be cut off completely. You can message me anytime you want. Anytime you need to talk, and I –"_

_ "It's not your problem. Don't worry about it."_

_ Keith's face twisted. It would have been easier for Lance if it had been pity he saw in his friend's eyes. Pity, he could protest. Pity he could scoff at. Pity he could dismiss. But Keith looked at him with a kind of grim understanding, and he hated that almost as much as he hated the way he was feeling in that moment._

_ "It's only been three months. Let yourself feel what you are feeling."_

_ Lance did scoff at that, tilting his head up and rolling his eyes. "Right. People won't get tired of that too quickly. I know they want me to move on already. I know they expect me to get over it."_

_ "You lost someone you love. You're not going to get over it."_

_ Lance brought his head down, his gaze piercing as he met Keith's eyes. His hands rose into the space that separated them – palms up, imploring. "Then what's the fucking point, Keith? What's the point of anything?"_

_ "No, I mean –" Keith sighed, chewing on his bottom lip as he searched for the right words. "You won't get over it, but it will get easier. You will be able to live your life the way you always should, but that doesn't mean it will ever fully go away. Do you remember what my mom was saying last time – about keeping memories alive? Even thought it hurts, you don't ever want those feelings to completely go away, because that would mean we are forgetting all the people who shaped our lives. None of us will ever forget her, Lance. All you can do is find a way to live for the people you've lost…not live bogged down by the regret of what might have been."_

_ Lance scowled at him, annoyed that it made sense; annoyed that it helped, because he wasn't ready to feel better just yet. __**Maybe it is a good thing that he's leaving for a while**__, he thought. __**It'll give you plenty of time to wallow in peace. **_

"_I hate you sometimes, you know that?" But hate was the farthest thing from Lance's mind._

_ Keith gave him a little half smile. "Yeah, I know." He straightened up, taking a step back and tilting his head. "But this…this is exactly why we are going to come up with something; a code or a phrase or something – so that if I am not here and you need me for whatever reason, you can message me that word and I will drop everything I'm doing so we can talk."_

_ "That's stupid. What if you're in the middle of a fight?"_

_ "Then I'll stop and tell them to hang on for a moment while I call you back."_

_ The burst of laughter that escaped Lance's throat surprised him. "Yeah, but the thing is, I can actually imagine you doing that." He grabbed a wooden spoon from the sink, brandishing it like a sword. "Surrounded by enemies – fighting for your life, and then_…_**pling!"**_ _He made the notification noise, reaching into his pocket and pulling out his phone. "'Oh hang on, vicious, murderous enemy aliens. Can we all just put a pin in this fight for a tick? My poor, sad friend needs to talk.'"_

_ Keith smirked at him, unfazed. "I'm sure they will understand."_

_ Lance snorted, slipping the phone back into his pocket. "Okay, fine." He held one finger up in Keith's face. "But mostly because I actually want you to stop a battle so we can have a heart-to-heart chat."_

_ Keith gently pushed the finger aside. "What do you want the code to be?"_

_ Lance considered it for a moment. Then, slowly, a grin stretched across his face. "It should be an interactive one, like a two part code from spy movies. You know – I say one thing and you respond with the second half." _

_Keith raised an eyebrow, waiting for him to continue. _

_Lance's grin broadened. "If I need to talk or whatever, I'll message you 'when I saw vol you say –' and you message back –" He motioned for Keith to supply the rest._

_ "'Voltron.'" It came out like a groan, but Lance knew his friend well enough, now, to catch the smile Keith was trying to hide. "You're never going to let me live that down, are you?"_

_ "Nope. It's prime blackmail material for anyone who talks you up as being 'super cool and edgy.'" He reached out and tapped the spoon softly against the top of Keith's head. "I know the truth, you fucking dork."_

**Present Day:**

Lance leaned against the side of the shop, arms crossed over his chest. He watched the inhabitants of Morath stroll past through the eyes of his Blade mask. Most of the passersby gave him a wide berth once they saw the uniform Acxa had given him to wear.

It was true, the Blade had come a long way in their humanitarian efforts after the fall of the Empire, but it would take a while longer, still, before they were viewed without a little trepidation.

"Paladin."

He turned his head to see Acxa stepping through the door to the shop.

Veronica had been the one to convince her to accompany Lance, and he suspected Acxa had agreed partially just to put his sister's mind at ease. Veronica was stubborn – and _immovable_ when it came to matters concerning her family – especially with matters concerning her baby brother when he was about to do something reckless.

"You know you can call me by my name, right?"

She ignored him. "I was able to get some information regarding the Galra who attacked us before. That was apparently not the first time they have been seen in this quadrant." Her lip twitched, curling up just a little, like an animal snarling. "If we had been given this information beforehand, maybe we could have been prepared and avoided –" She broke off, shaking her head. "They call themselves the Karva-Sel. That was all he was able to tell me, but perhaps your colleague – the green paladin – would be able to look into this for us."

"Pidge," Lance corrected. "Or Katie. Or, if you really want her to get something done quickly, just ask specifically to speak to 'the Smartest Most Amazing Human at the Garrison.'"

"Will she not assist us unless we use that conceited title?"

Lance rolled his eyes. "Seriously? How does my sister even get along with you if you can't spot a joke when you hear one?" Shaking his head, he pulled up the communication display on his wrist-guard. "You really don't understand what this means to us, do you? She will help us even if we called her something ridiculous like _Pythagorean Theorem_. Pidge loves her family more than anything – and she thinks of Keith like a brother."

"She already has a brother."

Lance glanced down to see Matt's face filling the holographic screen he had pulled up.

"Am I not enough?" Matt made his eyes overly wide, blinking dramatically several times. "Do I need to make fun of her even more? I'm already starting to run out of pranks to pull without this added pressure!"

"Like you'd ever run out of pranks."

"Seriously, Matt –" Pidge's voice sounded from off screen, moving closer as she continued. "If Lance is being the sensible one in this conversation, you're lost. Now get out of the way." A hand entered the frame, shoving Matt roughly to the side, and then Lance was looking at his friend. She sat down, adjusting her glasses. "Have you found anything?" It was obvious she was trying to keep the anxiousness out of her voice, but Pidge had never been good at concealing her feelings.

"Maybe. We found the name of the Galra who attacked them and captured Keith. Do you think you could find any information with just that?" Lance glanced at Acxa. "What was it? Karva-Sel?"

"I've worked with less. I'll see what I can do." Pidge was already typing away on the keyboard in front of her. "I'll have Hunk and Shiro ask around –"

"And Matt!" came a shout from somewhere off screen.

"And Matt," Pidge added. "I'll have them ask around the Garrison and in the market. Maybe someone will have heard of that name before and can help us." She paused, glancing up from the screen. "I'll tell them…to let everyone know why we're asking." The glare of the screen before her reflected on her glasses hiding her eyes from Lance's view, but the small, watery sniff she gave revealed the feelings she was trying to fight down. "We're going to find him, Lance. As soon as I know anything I will contact you – and then we will choose a place to rendezvous."

"We'll keep searching here in the meantime. Good luck." Lance ended the call and turned back to his companion. "Do you have any other contacts who might have information about this group?"

Acxa shook her head. "Not aside from the obvious. I will do all I can to keep attempting to contact them, but…"

Lance nodded, feeling the weight of the names left unsaid.

Everything would have been easier if they had been able to reach Krolia and Kolivan. As the ones in charge of the Blade's operations – the ones who had been part of this organization for longer than Keith was even alive – they would have contacts and ways of gaining information that neither Lance or Acxa was privy to.

And Krolia would move heaven and earth to save her son.

That was not even an exaggeration, in Lance's mind. He truly believed she was literally capable of doing something like that.

Earlier, after Pidge and Shiro had gone off to work out the details of their leave with the Garrison, and Hunk had left to make arrangements with Shay and his chain of restaurants, Lance had immediately opened a communication channel from Shiro's desk.

Keith had given him the contact information for the Blade's headquarters, and several codes he could use so they would know to trust him.

During that conversation Keith had ended up in tears, laughing harder than Lance ever remembered as he had struggled to master the harsh, guttural pronunciations of the Galra code words. After a while Lance had given up on acting annoyed and let the laughter take hold of him as well. He had ended up on the floor, gasping for breath. It had only set them off again when Lance's nephew had waltzed into the room and, after asking what was so funny, gave one perfect pronunciation of the word to signal _emergency_.

That was the word Lance used over the channel, giving Krolia's name as well.

"Apologies, but that operative is unavailable at this time."

"What? Didn't you hear what I said? Make her available!"

"I cannot do that," said the speaker on the other end – a small Galra girl who looked very nervous. She was probably new. "Leaders Krolia and Kolivan are off world. Their mission is of a classified nature, and we have been ordered to have zero contact with them until they return."

"Can you at least tell me when that will be?" Lance felt himself deflate.

The girl shook her head. "They have only given us a rough estimate, which would put their return time to at least two more movements. These things are not guaranteed, though."

"Okay, okay." Lance chewed on his lower lip. "But if there is anything you can do to reach them…Krolia will want to know because it involves her son."

The girl perked up unexpectedly at that, eyes widening. "Keith? What happened?"

Her reaction caught Lance off guard, and suddenly – inexplicably – he wondered if Keith was involved with any members of the Blade…if there was some beautiful, fierce Galra warrior who should also be informed of Keith's capture. If someone was waiting for him to call, growing more worried and desperate by the moment.

"Keith was captured by a rogue group of Galra during his recent mission to Morath. I am going after him. Krolia will want to know."

"Wait a tick –" The girl frowned, and Lance could hear her fingers tapping on a keyboard. "The mission to Morath…I just saw that report. Hold on." She paused, her gaze shifting, eyes darting back and forth as she read something on her screen. "You mean this is about Keith? 'Mission to Morath: Relief Effort,'" she read. "'Ambush. Heavy fire from unknown assailant of Galra origin. Planet's inhabitants and infrastructure intact. One member of Blade team MIA, presumed deceased.'" She raised her eyes to Lance's again through the screen. "That's Keith?"

Abruptly, Lance wanted to end the call. "Yes," he said shortly. "As I said, I am going after him, so if there's any way to contact Krolia –"

"But…the orders are not to pursue. It says he is presumed deceased, and the Blade –"

"I'm not part of the Blade!" Lance snapped. "I don't give a fuck what your orders are. I'm going after my friend, and his mother will want to know!"

The girl ducked her head. "I understand. I…I will do what I can."

"Thank you." He did not wait for her to respond as he shut off the video. He stared at the far wall of Shiro's office, breathing hard – hating how angry that report had made him feel.

_One member of the Blade team MIA, presumed deceased._

The wording of that was so wrong. After everything Keith had done for the universe…they were just going to let him be an unnamed member of the Blade? His memory was going to be nothing more than one impersonal sentence on a mission report?

Kosmo must have sensed his distress, because he got up from where he had been curled at the side of the desk and plopped his head onto Lance's thigh.

"Don't worry, buddy," Lance said, stroking the wolf between the eyes. "I'm going to make this right. I'm going to find him and take him back to Blade headquarters so I can watch him tell everyone off about not using operatives' names in mission reports. You'll have to come alone, of course, so he can stand on your back while he yells at Kolivan. You have to do these things eye to eye."

Kosmo let out a tiny huff through his nose, and Lance was convinced he had just made Keith's space wolf laugh.

**Twenty-Two Months Ago:**

_It was a good day._

_ Lance had woken up before sunrise, preparing to spend the morning out in the field planting the portion of the crop he had not gotten to the previous day. _

_The work was good. It was good to have something to do with his hands. It was good to feel like he was accomplishing something, no matter how small and insignificant._

_ The only downside was that this kind of work left him alone with his thoughts, and some days he had to fight not to spiral out of control. _

_ His thoughts on that morning were just starting to take a dark turn when a shadow fell across his face. He looked up, expecting to see his dad or maybe even Luis who helped out whenever they could._

_ The fact that it was Keith who crouched down beside him, rolling up his sleeves and grabbing a pack of seeds to start on his own row was not a surprise to Lance. The surprise was that Krolia stood at her son's side, accepting the seeds and the trowel Keith handed to her, and moving further down the row after he explained what was required._

_ Keith had an uncanny ability to sense when Lance wasn't in the mood for talking, and he only offered a brief smile and a pat on the shoulder before getting to work beside his mother._

_ After that, the silence was more bearable, because Lance's thoughts no longer traveled down the shadowed path of guilt. Instead, all he could think of throughout the morning were the two figured working several feet away from him._

_ His thoughts lingered mostly to Krolia, and the fact that she was here._

_ Ever since he had met her, Lance had always felt an unexplainable need to prove himself in her eyes. He wanted her approval, and the only reason he could come up with was the fact that she was Keith's mother – and he had already worked so hard to gain Keith's approval._

_ She had not approved in the beginning, and he knew that. She had considered him loud and obnoxious…but he had also frequently caught her watching him – silent and intent – and he had never figured out why._

_ Lance was surprised to walk past the kitchen later that day to find Krolia and his own mother in an animated conversation about the boys' fathers. He pressed his back against the wall, hiding from view and listening as they talked and laughed and told vastly different anecdotes._

_ Lance's heart swelled with joy, and for a moment, everything felt whole again._

_ Later that evening, however, the grief hit him without warning. _

_Thinking everyone had either left or was already in bed, he stumbled downstairs, heading for the door. He wasn't sure what he was doing, but he knew he needed some fresh air. He blundered into the living room – and froze._

_ Keith and Krolia were sitting on the couch, which would have been fine…except Keith was curled up at one end, his knees pulled up and his face hidden by his hands. Krolia's hand was on his shoulders, and Lance could see his trembling from where he stood._

_ Krolia turned to look at the intruder, her yellow eyes locking with Lance's – and for the first time since they had met, her gaze softened._

_ "Lance, come here."_

_ He hesitated, eyes flitting to Keith as the other boy hurriedly wiped at his face, trying to act as though he hadn't been crying. He looked back at Krolia, feeling helpless._

_ "You boys," she said gently. "You think you have to do everything alone. You think you have to hide your pain from the world." She motioned Lance over again, and this time he complied, taking a seat beside her on the couch. "Keith and I were sharing stories of his father," she explained. "Your mother and I spoke on the subject earlier, and I realized it is good to converse about those who are gone from our lives. It helps us remember them as a whole person, not just the aspects we pick apart and choose. It helps us remember that they had their own hopes and dreams; they made their own mistakes and choices – and their fate was not determined by our actions, but by their own." She placed her hand gently on Lance's bent knee. "Keith's father's death was not caused by my choice to leave. It was not caused by Keith's belief that he was not a good enough son. It is the same for you. Your Princess's death was not caused by whatever you believe it to be in this moment."_

_ Lance's defenses were already down – and Krolia was speaking to him as a mother, not as a warrior. "It still hurts." He couldn't have stopped the words, even if he tried._

_ A snort of concurrence sounded from the end of the couch. "You're damn right it still hurts."_

_ Lance leaned forward slightly, trying to meet Keith's eye – and it was then that Krolia's words caught up with him. "Wait a minute." A frown creased his brow. "You thought your father's death was your fault? All these years?"_

_ Keith wouldn't look at him, and did not answer the question. He shrugged and moved to get up from the couch._

_ "Oh no. No, no you don't." Lance grabbed his wrist and yanked him back down. Keith let out a tiny grunt of surprise, landing heavily in the space between Krolia and Lance. "You're not just gonna walk away from this – we're bonding!"_

_ Keith groaned, trying to get up again, but Lance snaked both arms around his waist and pulled him back. "Look, dude, if I have to be sad and depressed and sleep deprived then you can at least have the decency to join me. Plus your mom was making a lot of sense right now."_

_ "Are you going to just sit there and watch your son be held hostage by a crazy person?" Keith held out both hands imploringly to Krolia, but she was giving him a sly, sidelong glance._

_ "You could easily break free of his hold. If you wanted to."_

_ Lance tightened his arms. "Yeah, but he doesn't want to. He acts all tough and fearless, but in reality he just wants affection."_

_ "Yes he does." There was fondness in Krolia's voice as she leaned forward and kissed her son on the head. "I believe you both also require a glass of water after all those tears." She extricated herself from the couch and padded soundlessly into the kitchen._

_ Keith only spoke up after she disappeared into the other room. "Hey, Lance? You can let go, now."_

_ Later, Lance would rack it up to sleep deprivation and general loneliness, but he shook his head. "No, man. You're a sucker for affection, remember? Gotta give the people what they want."_

_ "What people?" Keith grumbled, but made no effort to move away._

_ Lance dropped his head onto Keith's shoulder, unthinking. His eyelids began to feel heavy. "Hey, Keith?" he asked sleepily. _

_ "Yeah?"_

_ "I'm glad you stopped by today." _

_ Lance was just drifting off when he felt the pressure of an arm slipping around his shoulders – pulling him just a little closer. "I'm glad I did, too."_

_ Lance smiled to himself as sleep took over his mind._

_ When he woke the next morning, he was still curled into Keith's side on the couch – and he realized it had been the first night where he had slept through without a single nightmare._

**Present Day:**

Lance felt like he hadn't slept in days. It had been three days, specifically, since he had been told the news, and he had gotten maybe six hours total – napping here and there when he could.

One day to hear the news and make plans.

One and a half days to travel to Morath, and approximately 10 hours of searching for clues and questioning the Morathians.

Three days, and six hours of sleep.

He should have been exhausted. He should have fallen asleep as soon as his head hit the pillow – and he tried, he really tried, but it was no use.

He sighed quietly, sitting up and glancing over at Acxa. She was asleep, lying on the stowaway cot in the ship they had arrived in. Lance had taken the floor, and for a while he thought that was the reason he couldn't sleep. Except it had never been an issue before. His sister Rachel and he were the only members of their family who could sleep wherever, whenever – so it couldn't be that.

It was the feeling that they were running out of time.

It was the need to move – to run, to fight, to do whatever he could to find his friend – not sit here and waste precious time that Keith might not have.

He was just getting to his feet to take a walk and clear his head when the comm. on the ship's computer started beeping. Acxa was up in the blink of an eye and the two of them stumbled into the cockpit to answer the call.

Pidge was rubbing her eyes when the pulled up the video.

"Pidge, we talked about this." Lance tried to use his best big brother voice, despite the fact that he probably looked just as close to death as she did. "Sleep is necessary for survival."

"Hypocrite." She flashed him a sleep glare before snapping to attention. "Anyway, screw sleep. We found something. Acxa, have you ever heard of the planet Zaleer?"

"It sounds familiar." Acxa took the pilot's seat, pulling up the navigational charts from the ships computer. She typed in the coordinates Pidge supplied and a map appeared on the screen before her. "Are you certain?"

"I am as certain as I can be, given the circumstances. What little I was able to find on the Karva-Sel, plus the little bits of information we gathered here, all pointed toward that planet." She paused, shoulders slumping briefly. When she spoke again, she sounded the way Lance felt. "It's our best chance. It's our only hope at this point. It's all we have."

That was enough for Lance. "Acxa and I will go on ahead. Zaleer will be our rendezvous point. Once we land and get our bearings, we will report back with instructions on where specifically you will need to go. It will take –" he glanced at the map. "Just a little over two days, it looks like, so you all should leave as soon as you are able."

"I will let them know." Pidge gave a little salute before the video went black.

Acxa's eyes followed Lance as he took the passenger seat beside her. He raised a brow in response to her unasked question. "Pidge was right. Screw sleep. Let's do this." He gave her the first genuine smile he'd worn in some time. "We're gonna be heroes, Acxa. There will be parades in the streets. They'll write songs about our bravery."

"Don't make me leave you behind," she grumbled.

"Aw, you're just as grumpy as Keith is when he doesn't get much sleep. Me?" He placed a hand on his chest. "I'm more of the manic type, myself, so this is gonna be a blast."

With the press of a few buttons, the engine roared to life and they were off, rising through the atmosphere until all that surrounded them was darkness.

Lance fixed his gaze on the vast expanse of space stretching before them, making a silent, collective wish on all the stars he could see:

_Please let him be alive._


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter Three

**Present Day:**

"You know this would have all be so much easier if we had been able to bring Kosmo."

"That animal is too recognizable. Once you go around saving and restoring planets with a giant, blue, teleporting wolf at your side, word tends to get around."

"Yeah, but you know what's gonna happen now?" Lance glanced over at Axca who was casually surveying their surroundings for any signs of a threat. "We're going to find Keith, and he's going to take one look at us and go 'where's my wolf? Is my wolf ok? Have you been giving him his daily bellyrubs?' He's that type of dog person."

Acxa cast a confused look in his direction, apparently satisfied they were not about to be under attack. "Actually if there was a comparison, the Galra would be closer to your species of feline."

"As much as I appreciate you giving me _so_ many new ideas for Keith's next birthday present, I seriously don't get it, Acxa." Lance shook his head – trying his best to shove away the image of Keith in Catwoman spandex that had popped in his mind, unwarranted. "How do you and Veronica get along if you don't understand jokes or sarcasm?" He gave her a slightly condescending pat on the shoulder before opening a secured communications channel from the panel on the wrist of his Blade uniform.

It was only a second before Pidge's face appeared on the screen.

"Hey," Lance greeted. "Acxa and I just landed on Zaleer. What's your location?"

"We just passed…Norriem in the Aleno quandrant," she replied. "We still have 20 vargas before we reach Zaleer."

"Are Hunk and Shiro with you?"

She nodded, as a shout of _'Hi Lance'_ was heard from somewhere off-screen.

A smile crossed Lance's face as he raised his voice as much as he dared. "Hi, Hunk. How're you doing, dude?"

"Lance."

He focused his attention back on Pidge, taking note of the small frown tugging at the corners of her mouth.

"Since you're already there, I just want to warn you to be careful." She glanced to her left, where Lance assumed Shiro was sitting just off screen. "I've been doing some research on the Karva-Sel…trying to figure out as much as I can so we are not going in to this blind, and what I've found is…not good."

"I can't believe I'm telling _you_ to use more specific language," Lance snorted. "What do you mean 'not good?'"

A grin flashed briefly across her face. "I was just dumbing it down for you. I know how much you hate big words." She shifted in her seat, the smile vanishing. "They are doing something, but we haven't been able to figure out what. They go to planets that are in crisis or at war, or planets that have large cities with high crime rates. They take captives and bring them back to the Zaleer, and the number of captives that actually leave the planet is only 0.8%." The numbers didn't mean much to Lance, but he saw how nervous it made Pidge, and that was something he could understand. "Whatever the plan is," she continued, "you need to be careful."

Acxa leaned in towards Lance so she could be seen on the call. "We landed our ship in a wooded area just outside the city limits so as to avoid detection. As we were flying in I remember seeing a large building at the city's center. Definitely something large enough to house thousands of captives. Based on your information, that would be the first place we should check."

"Then that's what we will do." Lance gave Acxa a decisive look before turning back to the screen. "Pidge – guys – I don't want to wait another day for you to get here. Keith has been with them for 4 days already, and that is already too long. Given the information you gave us, Pidge, I say we move in now. We will find a way into this building and start doing recon. The least we can do is find out where he is being held while we wait for you to arrive."

He had expected some resistance, but after a moment of silence, Shiro's face appeared at the top of the screen. "Remember, these are Galra rebels, and they attacked a squad of the Blade. They cannot know who you are, or you will be putting your lives in just as much danger."

Lance gave a curt nod. "We find disguises, then we go in. Acxa, send Pidge our exact location so they will know where to land. We will try to contact you as soon as we have any information, but if you have not heard from us by the time you arrive – Shiro, you are to assume Acxa and I have also been captured, so proceed with caution."

"Understood."

"Affirmative," Pidge agreed.

"Be careful," came Hunk's voice from the back of the ship.

"You too." Lance ended the call and turned to Acxa – only to find her watching him, a curious expression on her usually unreadable face. "What?"

She gave a little shrug. "It's just…Keith always spoke about your leadership qualities. I guess I can see it now, is all."

She rose to her feet and Lance followed a moment later, reeling from the unexpected compliment. "Keith…thought I would make a good leader?"

Acxa walked back toward the ship. "Didn't he ever tell you that?" She grabbed hold of the door and swung herself up into the cockpit. "Let me send the green paladin our location so we can be on our way."

"Pidge," Lance corrected distractedly, more to himself than his traveling companion.

It took only a couple ticks before Axca was climbing down again, and the two of them were making their way through the forest toward the city.

"Can I ask you something?" Lance broke the silence after several minutes of walking. "What…is with you and Keith?"

Acxa gave him a confused look. "I don't think I understand what you mean."

"Well, like…" Lance tried to find the right words without being too blunt about it. "Okay, so it always kindof seemed like there was a weird…connection between you two. Like you and he shared somethi –"

Acxa came to an abrupt halt. "Is that why you've never liked me?"

"Um…what?"

"But then shouldn't the fact that I am with your sister clear that up?"

Lance held out his hands, prompting. "Again…what?"

Acxa leveled a look at him. "If I'm not mistaken, you seem to be asking if Keith and I ever slept together – which would explain why you never like me. But since I am currently sleeping with your –"

"_Gah!"_ Lance leaped back, waving his hands violently as if he could erase those words from existence. "Why would you – I mean, I don't _ever_ want to hear – wait…did you?"

"Did I…?"

"You and – and Keith?"

"You know I am dating your _sister_."

"What? It's not like it's unheard of to be attracted to…you know, both." He finished lamely. He tried to save face by hurrying on. "And even if you are only into girls, Keith is –"

What did Lance want to say? What was the proper way of putting this without giving away more than he wanted to?

_Keith is –_

_– turning around with a sheepish smile and a blackened frying pan in one hand as the smoke alarm blared overhead._

_– throwing a stick for Kosmo – and laughing as the wolf zapped through the air in the blink of an eye, dropping on top of his master, tail wagging furiously._

_ – standing on the porch with concern in his eyes – reaching out without a word to pull Lance into a hug._

_ – waving goodbye as he climbed into a ship in his Blade of Marmora uniform –_

"He's…you know," Lance continued, waving his hands in a vague gesture that obviously meant nothing to Acxa. "He's, like…attractive or whatever." He could feel his face heating up, and thought for a moment of just fully committing to his embarrassment and pulling the hood over his head.

The look Acxa gave him showed clearly what she thought of his statement. "I have to deal with this enough during my missions," she said gruffly. "I am not here to gossip. We have more important things to attend to."

Lance was left alone and embarrassed as she whirled around and started off again through the trees. He hurried to catch up.

Lance had expected that to be the end of it, but it was only a moment before Acxa broke the silence. "If you must know, however, the relationship I share with Keith is one a value highly. We have saved each other's lives on multiple occasions. He is someone I am certain I can rely on…someone who will not betray me or double-cross me as so many others have done. He makes me feel comfortable because I know he would never ask anything of me I was not willing to give. He is one of the few people in the universe who I have told about my past." Her gaze was fixed straight ahead as she continued. "He knows that I…have not has the best experience with…men. So, no. To answer your question, Keith and I have not slept together and the likelihood of that ever happening is absolute zero." She glanced at him, the tension leaving her features slightly. "But of course I can see he is attractive. Many people are attractive…but not many would jump to defend you without a second thought."

Lance nodded. He tried to see Acxa's words as a good thing, but it was impossible to shake the slimy feeling of jealousy slithering through his chest. Because the fact remained that Keith and Acxa were close. They had gone on missions together. They had saved planets together. They had each other's backs. They had shared secrets – deep, intimate details of their lives that they may not have shared with anyone else.

_At least I've been there for him when he needs me, instead of just the other way around!_

"Follow my lead and keep to the shadows," Acxa broke Lance from his thoughts with a hand on his arm and a whisper in his ear. He looked up to see they had reached the outskirts of the city. "For now, we'll put our hoods up, but we definitely should get out of these Blade uniforms as soon as possible."

"Acxa," Lance chided. "You have a girlfriend. Stop trying to get me to strip." He flashed her a grin and a wink before pulling his hood up over his head.

Acxa groaned and pushed past him, moving silently and stealthily along the side of the nearest building.

If the universe had been a city, Zaleer would have been the slums. Aliens of all races and species lurked in dark alleys, or trudged down the street shooting dirty look at anyone who passed by. Sounds of fighting came from all around – gunshots, arguing, children crying. Garbage and rubble littered the streets, and Lance caught sight of half-starved alien creatures scurrying in and out of the shadows.

Lance and Acxa bought outfits from the a street vendor and hurriedly changed out of their Blade uniforms – which alleviated the anxiety squeezing Lance's chest. Walking through the city, he had been all too aware of how starkly he and Acxa stood out in their pristine Blade uniforms amidst all the poverty and despondency.

As he suspected, they received much less attention after the change of clothes, and they made their way toward the large stadium-like building at the center of the city with ease.

The closer they drew to the building, the thicker the crowd became – until there was a steady stream of aliens shuffling forward in several wobbly lines. Acxa pulled Lance aside and they peered at the entrance from the shadows of a nearby shop.

"Should we just try to walk in with the crowd?" Lance asked, feeling unsure.

Acxa shook her head. "No. Look. There is a checkpoint outside the main entrance. Do you see the guards? They are taking tickets or punch-cards or something equivalent. Either way, it doesn't look like we would be able to just walk in. We'll find another entrance."

They sidled casually away from the stream of people, sauntering around the side of the building. Luckily there did not appear to be any guards patrolling the perimeter, and about halfway along the outer wall they came to a door with alien letters stamped on it.

"It's written in Galran," Acxa told him. "It says 'deliveries'. We will enter here."

"Well, I hope you can pick a lock because I sure as hell can't. Not for lack of trying, mind you," Lance sighed. "They make it look so easy in movies, but in real life it's actually – and you've already done it. Congratulations, Acxa. You'd make an excellent super spy."

She pulled the door open and the two of them quietly slipped inside. Their luck continued as they entered a dimly lit and seemingly unoccupied storeroom.

"Veronica has shown me several of those…spy movies." She kept her voice low as they made their way toward the door on the opposite side of the room. "And you are correct. The work I did while in Lotor's employ would have made me a very good super spy."

Lance let out a soft groan. "No wonder you and Keith get along so well. You are also annoyingly cool." His face slipped into a look of sincerity as he continued. "Thank you, though. For coming with me, I mean. I wouldn't have gotten far without you."

They had reached the door, but Acxa paused for a moment, her fingers brushing the handle. "You are welcome. And…for what it's worth, Lance…I will admit I don't always hate your company."

Lance chuckled, waving his hands in front of his face. "Whoa. Slow down there, buddy. That's quite a statement. You sure you're ready for that kind of commitment?"

"That…" Acxa blinked at him. "Was sarcasm?"

Lance flung both arms into the air in a triumphant gesture. "Yes! Yes it was. Man, Veronica's gonna be so proud of all I've taught you when we get back to Earth." He patted her on the shoulder. "But seriously – let's get out of here before somebody comes along."

She nodded, before reaching down and opening the door a crack. She peered out through the opening. "There is a large crowd. That makes it easier. All we need to do is walk out like we are exactly where we are supposed to me and blend in with the others." She took one more look before turning back to Lance. "You should probably put your mask on, though. I see a majority of Galra. Some other species, as well, but no humans. And definitely no former paladins of Voltron who might be recognized."

Lance gave a dramatic sigh, pulling up the mask that covered his face from the nose down. "I know. It's hard traveling with a celebrity."

Acxa rolled her eyes as she pulled the door open and the two of them strolled out. Several heads turned as they exited the storeroom, but just as quickly looked away in disinterest.

They followed the general flow of the crowd, walking along a wide hallway that continuously bent slightly to the right. The farther they walked, the more Lance's heart plummeted. This did not seem like a place where they were likely to find Keith – or any captives, for that matter. In fact, it looked almost like a weird, alien version of a sporting event. There were small carts set up along the edges of the hallway, selling food and drinks – and the aliens milling about all seemed to be buzzing with that specific mix of nervousness and anticipation that revolved around a big game or match.

His suspicions were confirmed a moment later as he and Acxa made their way to one of the open doorways situated periodically around the circular hallway.

Rows of seats stretched down below them, leading to an open, dirt-floored pit in the center of the wide, domed room. High walls surrounded the pit, wrapping around and meeting to form a wide, flat platform on one end. Most likely this was for VIP seating, Lance guessed. A device hanging from the center of the ceiling looked vaguely similar to a jumbotron. Brightly colored text scrolled across the screens, but it was in a language Lance could not read.

Lance was about to turn toward Acxa and tell her this could not be the place they were looking for – when her hand snaked around his arm, and she was suddenly pulling him off to the side and away from the crowd.

Lance glanced at her, the confused frown on his face falling away as he caught sight of her expression.

She was mumbling something too quiet for him to hear above the noise of the crowd – her eyes wide and frightened. Lance leaned in to hear what she was saying, because even though it looked like she was talking to herself, she had not released the bruising grip on his arm.

"…should have know…I should have known…so stupid… I should have –"

"Acxa –" Lance started, concerned.

She looked up at him. Her movements were no longer that of the stoic warrior Lance was accustomed to. She looked more like a frightened child, desperate to find her lost mother. "Fighting pits," she hissed. "I should have known."

A sudden, collective roar from the crowd drew both of their attentions back to the arena.

Lance turned in time to see a large door sliding upwards at the back of the pit. Ten figures strode out – all carrying weapons, all clad in some form of armor, all playing to the crowd.

"Like gladiator pits?" Lance murmured to Acxa, but she must not have heard him over the deafening yells and cheering of the spectators.

The ten contestants came to stand before the platform, forming a single straight line.

Lance hadn't thought Acxa's grip on his arm could get any tighter, but he was mistaken. He flexed his hand, wincing as he felt her sharp nails dig into his bicep. He tried to catch her eye – to tell her she was about to cut off the circulation in his arm – but her unblinking gaze was glued to the platform.

A thunderous cheer drew Lance's attention once again to the spectacle before him. Everyone seemed to be focused, now, on the platform as several figures made their way across the flat, open space.

And Lance's breath was catching in his throat – Acxa's death grip on his arm the only thing holding him back from dashing through the stands and scaling the towering walls – because in the midst of the Galra soldiers striding along the platform was a small figure, draped in a long purple robe that dragged along the floor behind him.

_Keith_.

His head was held high, and he walked with purpose, which gave Lance a flicker of confidence. Whatever injuries Keith had suffered from the explosion must have been healed, either in a pod or with some Galran technology Lance was not familiar with.

From this distance, Lance could not see the expression on his friend's face, but he did not need to. He knew that posture of Keith's shoulders. He knew that when he held himself in this way, the only expression on his face would be one of defiance and determination.

For the first time, Lance allowed actual hope to bloom in his chest.

Maybe this situation would turn out fine, after all.

Keith was alive. He was standing right before them on that platform – and he was alive!

Everything else could be figured out along the way.

He had been expecting Acxa to be smiling as well when he turned to her – but if anything, her face was contorted even further with fear and anger.

"What's wrong?" Lance hissed at her. "He's alive! This is –"

"We should leave."

Lance gaped, not understanding. Before he could respond, Acxa yanked on his arm.

"Lance, we need to leave. Now. You shouldn't have to see this." She started to pull him away, and it took all of Lance's strength to resist her.

He dug his heels in, gritting his teeth. "What are you talking about? See what?"

And Acxa…wilted.

In all the time he had known her, he had never seen her vulnerable and slumped like this. There were a handful of people in Lance's life who he had seen break in different ways. People with formidable, calm, and collected personalities – and each time it happened, it shook Lance to his core.

_The time his mom had yelled at him._

_The time they had found Shiro clutching his head and shaking outside of the empty pod where they had been holding Sendak._

_The time one of his middle school teachers had punched a hole in the wall when the class refused to settle down._

_The first time Keith had looked at him eyes wide with shock and fear, glistening with unshed tears, after Lance let slip the time he had died for a few minutes while Keith had been with the Blade._

_And now Acxa. _

_Acxa, who had been through more than Lance would probably ever know. Acxa, the badass spy. Acxa, Veronica's stubborn girlfriend who didn't quite understand sarcasm._

Lance stepped forward, putting a hand on her arm and guiding her away from the crowd.

"I should have known," Acxa repeated in a whisper. "Why didn't I think this would happen? I wish he hadn't survived that explosion."

Lance positioned himself in front of her as she slumped against the wall. He leaned forward, trying to appear calm and reassuring despite the rapid, panicked beating of his heart. He had no idea what could possibly be affecting Acxa this badly…and he wasn't sure he wanted to find out.

"Acxa," he said quietly, despite his trepidations. "Please tell me what's going on."

She glanced up at him, wrapping her arms around herself. A surprised huff escaped her lips. "You really have your sister's eyes, don't you? So stupid. I never could resist it when she looked at me like that."

"Well, I'm not going to make out with you or anything – so resist it."

"Not like that!" She rolled her eyes, slowly starting to return to the version of herself Lance was familiar with. She drew in a long breath before expelling it in a sigh. "The fighting pits are a Galra custom that have been around since before the Empire. Except this is a very specific version of the gladiator match." She glanced over at the crowd settling down for the start of the entertainment. "I have been a part of this before. I was chosen because I was a half-breed. I stood in the place Keith is standing now." Her eyes were pleading as they found Lance's again. "Lotor rescued me from a place like this. Why do you think I was so undyingly loyal to him?"

A voice sounded over a loudspeaker, welcoming spectators and participants, alike – and the crowd roared its appreciation.

"Okay, okay…" Lance was trying to get everything straight in his head. "But what is Keith's part in this? Why are you so scared for him?"

"Because there will be a winner," Acxa said despairingly. "Night after night, there will be a winner, and the winner gets a prize." Her fingers wound around Lance's wrist painfully as she hissed. "Keith is that prize."

Lance stared at her for one moment, the words taking root in his mind. Then, abruptly, he yanked his arm out of her hold and slipped through the crowd until he at the top of the stands, overlooking the arena. His eyes found Keith on the platform as the crowd quieted and the announcer began to speak.

"We have a special guest with us tonight. Some of you have encountered him. Some of you have seen him from afar. But all remaining proud members of the Galra race know who he is."

One of the soldiers standing beside Keith reached up and yanked the robe from his shoulders with a flourish. Lance flinched, seeing the heavy shackles binding Keith's wrists. The rest of him was bare of clothing, except for a small loincloth draped around his hips.

"The Paladin of the Black Lion of Voltron!" The announcer's voice boomed throughout the arena – and the crowd fell deathly silent for one moment before erupting into chaos.

Lance's eyes were wide with horror as he listened to the cheers and yells; the hisses and screams of hatred. The crowd was a roiling, seething pot of mixed emotions, and it was one of the most terrifying things Lance has ever witnessed.

No wonder Acxa was scared.

Yet, in the middle of it all, Keith stood, eyes fixed on a point in the distance, face impassive, as if none of it bothered him in the slightest.

"That's right," the announcer continued. "Win this match, and he will be yours for the next 6 vargas. Imagine the possibilities! The sworn enemy of the true Galra race…the half-breed son of the traitor Krolia; protégé of the accursed leader of the Blade of Marmora. One of you lucky contestants will have him at your mercy – the proud leader of Voltron. Not so proud now, is he?" There was a chuckle over the speaker. "Believe me, you will want to win tonight because if he survives to be offered at tomorrow's match…I can assure you, he will not be in such…pristine condition."

Lance's stomach heaved and he whirled around, sprinting over to a trashcan at one edge of the hallway. He tore his mask off just in time to empty the contents of his stomach into the bin.

Acxa had been right. He did not want to see this. He did not want to think about what would happen when a winner was decided.

Acxa's hand on his back was little comfort. He raised his head, tears in his eyes from his body's violent rejection of the reality they faced.

"We can't let this happen." His voice came out hoarse and desperate. "We have to do something!"

"There is only one thing I can think to do, and you are not going to like it any more than I do."

"What is it?"

"I am going to enter the tournament. I can win and we can find a way to sneak him out of here."

A spark of hope flared in Lance's chest once again. "No, that's good. Why did you think I wouldn't –"

"Lance." She held his gaze firmly. "I can enter tomorrow's match, meaning one of the fighters down there right now is going to win today."

The former glimmer of hope was dashed to the ground. Lance gripped her arms, feeling his legs go weak. "No, there has to be something we can do. I…I can try to get on that platform. If I could get my hands of a gun –"

"There are too many of them. You will die before you reach him. You know this." She hesitated for a second, then reached out and tentatively smoothed the hair out of Lance's face. "He will be all right. He's one of the strongest people I have ever encountered."

"Of course he is," Lance choked. "But this is different."

_And I don't think I am strong enough for this,_ he added silently.

Lance tried to watch the match. He really did.

He tried to pay attention to what was happening in the arena, but his eyes kept straying to Keith standing on the platform.

Every time his attention was drawn back to the fight with a roar of the crowd – a collective gasp or a cheer – all he could focus on was the blood splattered across the dirt of the arena floor. He saw the fighters' numbers dwindling as one by one they were taken out by their opponents. He looked at the fighters who remained – refusing to accept that Keith would be handed over to one of them like an object.

He heard the announcer's voice over and over in his head: _…if he survives to be offered at tomorrow's match…I can assure you, he will not be in such…pristine condition._

The fight was brutal. It was intense and bloody and primal.

Lance desperately tried to focusing on anything other than the possibilities his mind supplied of what any of these fighters might put his friend through.

There was one thing he knew for sure, however. One thought he could not drown out or push aside: They were going to hurt Keith.

They were going to hurt him for 6 vargas, and even though Lance knew in his heart there was no way he could prevent it from happening, it didn't stop his body from shaking as the fighters dwindled to four; to three; to two…

It didn't stop his heart from racing out of control until he felt lightheaded and nauseated.

It didn't stop his feet from involuntarily moving to carry him down the steps – his body lurching forward, preparing to tear through the crowd, scale the wall and leap onto the platform…

Because with only two fighters left, he couldn't watch anymore, and he turned his attention back to the platform in time to see one of the Galra soldiers step forward. He came to stand directly behind Keith, snaking one hand forward to press flat against Keith's stomach. It was the only time during the entire ordeal Keith reacted – trying to jerk away from the touch, swinging his elbow up to strike the soldier's face. The shackles around his wrists made the blow an easy one to block, however, and the Galra leaned down, his hand dropping just a bit lower as the other came up to wrap around Keith's throat. He bent his head to whisper something in Keith's ear –

– and Acxa's hand clamped around Lance's mouth, stopping the furious yell before it could escape his lips.

She dragged him backwards with all her strength as Lance fought her – slamming his back against the wall and pinning him there so he could not escape. His body was shaking because didn't she know this wasn't the time to be held back? His chest burned, his eyes stung, and angry tears dripped onto the hand Acxa held over his mouth.

"Lance, you need to get it together!" she hissed in his ear. "Running in, now, is only going to get us all killed – Keith included."

He made a strained sound against the pressure of her hand and after a moment she removed it – just far enough that if he made too much noise, she could easily muzzle him again.

"I can't do this, Acxa!" he gasped. "I can't just let them –"

"You can because you have to." Her yellow eyes held his, unwavering.

"No, you don't understand." His voice shook with desperation and tears. "He doesn't – he doesn't like to be touched by people he doesn't trust." He jabbed a finger in the direction of the arena, his voice rising. "That fucking Galra thinks he can just –"

"Lance," she growled, eyes darting quickly around to see if they were drawing any unwanted attention.

He lowered his voice to match her growl. "He had no right to touch Keith like that! They're going to hurt him." His legs were shaking so badly, he would have collapsed to the floor if not for the support of her arms. "He's going to be with whichever contestant wins for 6 vargas – and they are going to hurt him! I can't do this. I can't let this happen, Acxa, he's my –" _something Lance didn't have a word for. Something Lance wasn't sure he quite understood yet._ "– He's my best friend. I can't let this happen!"

Acxa's eyes held his for a long moment, as if she was trying to read his mind. When she spoke next, Lance wondered if she actually had been able to. "Lance…he is not going to blame you. He will know you did whatever you could given the situation…and I know he will kill me if I let you run in there without a plan, trying to rescue him from a hoard of Galra soldiers." She paused, her eyes softening into something sad. "I joined you on this mission for Keith's sake, yes – and Veronica's – but most of all, for you. And a little bit for my own."

"What do you mean?" Lance sniffed.

"I am here to keep you from doing something stupid and reckless, because if I let you get hurt – if I let anything happen to you at all – he will never forgive me."

Lance stretched an arm out, his hand extending helplessly toward the arena. "He's the one who will be hurt, Acxa! He's the one who always does stupid, reckless things and puts himself in danger!"

"You're both stupid and reckless, but –" She sighed, her grip loosening on his armor. "I am going to say something, and I want you to not take it the wrong way." She released her hold on Lance's armor, taking a step back as she regarded him in silence for a moment. "I am glad I am here with you, and not Keith. I am glad you are not the one standing on that platform, while he attempts to rescue you…because I am able to stop you. I would not be able to stop him."

Under normal circumstances, Lance would have taken that comment and filed it away to revisit on a day when he was feeling especially low and insecure. But here, in this moment, his emotions were too raw and exposed; his mind too agitated for him not to say exactly how her words affected him. "Because I'm weaker than he is," he spat. "Because he's smarter and better and faster than I could ever be. Because you think I don't care about him enough to –"

"Because you are logical and rational when you need to be. Because you can actually keep a cool head and not let your emotions cloud your decisions!" she retorted. "Because deep down, you know trying to run in there, grab Keith, and get back to our ship is actually impossible. Because you know we need a better plan than whatever your emotional impulse is currently telling you." Her lips pressed together tightly. "And because, Lance…there would literally be no power in the universe strong enough to hold him back if he saw you standing on that platform."

A deep, roiling anger replaced the bitterness in his heart. "Yeah, and everything you said before that last thing doesn't matter because now I know what you really think – so let me make this crystal fucking clear to you." He straightened up, the anger burning through his veins giving his body strength. "He doesn't care about me more than I care about him. You have no idea how much I care about him!"

Acxa straightened as well, her eyes meeting his fiery gaze with a challenge. "Then prove it. Prove me wrong. Give me a logical plan on how to get him off this planet and back home. Tell me right now how to keep everyone safe."

Lance's fists were clenched so tightly at his sides, his arms were shaking…but he knew she was right, no matter how much he disliked that fact. He closed his eyes and tried to breathe deeply; tried to rein in his emotions and focus on the situation as a whole.

He tried to think of anything except the image of that soldier's hand wrapping around Keith's throat…

"Okay." He breathed, quieter now. "You're right. Trying to reach him on that platform is impossible because we are literally surrounded by people who will try to stop us." He peeled his eyes open as the cogs of his brain began to once again turn with clarity – thoughts connecting and falling into place. "You said you would enter the match tomorrow. That is good. We can work with that. So the first thing we need to do is find out where to sign up. But I want that to be a fallback, okay? So we should also try to see where they take him once he leaves the arena." He held up one finger to preemptively silence the protest he knew would follow his next words. "We are going to split up – and before you say anything, just listen. You are a super spy, remember? They have to take Keith somewhere after the match, and you can easily shadow them without their knowledge. Maybe they keep him somewhere less guarded while the winner gets ready. Maybe there's a specific room where this "prize" is brought. I know you said you've been in his place before, but it might be different from what you remember, so I need you to find out as much as you can. In the meantime, I will go find out where to sign up for tomorrow's match, and I will enter us both. We will meet back at this spot in two vargas. We will message each other immediately if anything goes wrong, or if we have relevant information. After we rendezvous, we will message the team and let them know what we have come up with."

"Fine. I agree to everything except the part about you entering into the match, as well."

"Aren't you forgetting that I was also a paladin of Voltron?" His voice was cold as he stepped passed her, pulling up his mask. "Aren't you forgetting that _logically_, if there are two of us, the odds of one of us winning increases? Or maybe you're just forgetting that I am in charge of this mission. Go do your part and let me do mine." He took a couple steps away before reconsidering and turning back. "I think you're also forgetting," he said with a wink, "that I have been literally toiling on a farm for the past two years. That's hard work, Acxa! I am ripped as fuck."

Acxa gave him a long, slow blink that illustrated precisely what she thought of that comment. Giving her head a small shake, she turned to go.

They walked off in separate directions, heading toward what Lance hoped was a solution.

Voices echoed through his head with each step he took…insecurities and doubts ping-ponging around his skull; images of the blood and violence he had just witnessed in the fighting pit.

_You know Acxa's right._

_You're not strong enough._

_You haven't fought in years._

_Your plan is flawed._

_You are going to get everyone killed._

_They shouldn't trust you; you've always been the weak link._

The thoughts pounded through his head, twisting his stomach into a tight, anxiety-filled knot.

And with that anxiety brought the image he had shut out – the Galran soldier's hands sliding down Keith's stomach…fingers curling around his throat…lips brushing Keith's ear as the soldier whispered something to him…

Lance was self-aware enough to know that image would be added fuel for his nightmares for years to come.

Except…as soon as that thought entered his mind, something else pushed the image aside, and a hazy memory took its place.

_Lance was roused from sleep by a gentle touch on his shoulder. He opened his eyes blearily, blinking at the image of Keith's face before him._

"_Hey, man," he whispered, half believing he was still dreaming._

"_I'm really sorry, Lance," Keith whispered through the fog of Lance's mind. "But…could I…sleep here? The nightmares are really bad tonight, and I…"_

_Lance was already shifting backwards on his small bed and patting the empty space he had created on the mattress._

_There was a moment's hesitation, and then he felt the bed dip. A warm body slid underneath the blankets and settled in beside him – so close he could feel a flutter of nervous breath wash over his cheek._

_Unthinking – still half asleep – he reached out, running his fingers soothingly through soft strands of dark hair. "You don't have to ask, you know," he murmured._

_The reply was quiet when it came. "I don't want to be a burden."_

_Lance let his eyes fully open, then, raising his gaze to his friend lying beside him._

_It suddenly struck him just how close they were; how his hand was still toying with the strands of hair around Keith's ear…how Keith had come to him when he felt scared._

_Keith had sought him out for comfort._

_Keith was allowing Lance to stroke his hair._

_Keith was here, in his bed, lying inches away – and suddenly Lance wanted to pull him closer. He wanted there to be no space between them._

_No distance at all._

"_Did I ever tell you," he whispered. "You have beautiful eyes."_

_He watched as Keith's eyes widened for a moment before settling back into a quiet fondness. He reached out and brushed the backs of his knuckles across Lance's cheek._

"_You're still basically asleep, aren't you?" he whispered. "I'll try to wake up before you so you won't freak out when you find me in your bed, okay? Go back to sleep, Lance. Everything's fine."_

_Lance chuckled quietly. He was already drifting off as he felt the press of a gentle kiss against his temple._

It didn't matter if he wasn't technically stronger than the alien fighters he'd seen in that arena.

It didn't matter if he wasn't a strategic genius like his friends.

It didn't matter if no one else in the universe fully trusted him – because Keith did.

He grabbed hold of that image of Keith's face in the darkness of his bedroom – hair splayed out on the pillow, eyes gleaming in the dim light, a soft smile curving his lips – and he held on.

He took everything he had witnessed and held it against that image, letting the contrast fuel his steps. Letting one powerful, determined thought carry him forwards.

Because he would do anything to protect that face.

Because Keith was in danger, and nothing else mattered.

_I am going to kill them all._

**END OF CHAPTER NOTES:** First of all, this story is dark, so, like, read at your own risk.

Secondly, this story read much better on Ao3, because I'm able to control the formatting, and there's also ARTWORK! You can read it here if you'd rather: /works/19069966/chapters/45301027


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter Four

Raucous, jeering laughter sounded from all around Lance.

He ignored it and kept his eyes fixed on the Galra standing behind the desk.

The room where potential competitors were able to sign up for the next day's match was located below the arena, down two flights of stairs and a dingy hallway that looked like the perfect place to get murdered.

By the time Lance had found it's location, there were already six aliens of various species lounging around the room in preparation for tomorrow. They were all large and brutish – making Lance look tiny in comparison.

A large, fan-eared Galra was there to test and accept the fighters for the match, and enter their information into his computer if he decided they were worthy of competing. From the moment Lance stepped into the room, he had not even tried to hide his contemp, and now regarded Lance with folded arms and a raised eyebrow. "You are too small. Is your friend also as small as you? Then the answer is no."

Lance put a hand on his hip. "You do know that sometimes it is harder to take down a smaller opponent."

The Galra leaned forward, pressing his hands against the desk between them. His head was almost twice the size of Lance's. "Look, you're here in case there's a chance the paladin will be the prize again, right? Everybody's got a vendetta against Voltron. That doesn't mean I can just let anyone compete in tomorrow's match. We gotta make it interesting for the crowd. I can't send some little twirp out into the arena who's only gonna get killed in the first two ticks of combat!"

"I've seen the paladins of Voltron in action," Lance retorted. "One of them was, like, half my size and she was still able to take down full grown opponents."

The Galra rolled his eyes. "Right. But she was a _paladin_. They had special skills and special tech. Even if by some miracle you survived in the arena – what then? You are the same size as the black paladin, himself! You might even be smaller. You actually expect to be able to control him for 6 vargas? I've witnessed him fight before. He was trained by the Blade of Marmora in their prime, you know."

Lance bristled. "First of all, I am definitely taller than he is. Secondly, if I prove my abilities to you, will you enter my friend and myself into the fight? Whatever I can do, she can definitely do at least five times better."

The Galra straightened up. He loomed nearly a foot and a half over Lance, but Lance tilted his head up, cocking it to one side and waited. He was not as easily intimidated as all that.

The Galra gave a little shrug and stepped out from behind the desk. The room fell silent – waiting in gleeful anticipation as the Galra squared up against Lance, raising his fists.

"Okay, then. Let's see what you've got."

Over the two years since Voltron disbanded, Lance had not been idle. Working on a farm had increased his strength and stamina, and after he had caught Keith going through some hand-to-hand drills alone one morning, he had offered himself as a sparring partner. He had come to accept that he would never be as quick as Keith, but those sparring sessions also taught him how to make up for it with tactical thinking and flexibility. Keith acted on impulse and instinct – and, to be fair, his instincts were usually right when it came to fighting – but Lance would never forget the first time he had managed to win one of their matches. He had swept Keith's legs out from under him and pinned his arms above his head before he had the chance to get up. For a moment, he and Keith had just stared at one another, panting and shocked – and then Lance had burst out laughing. He had rolled off Keith and flopped onto his back in the grass. When his laughter had died and he turned his head, he had been met with a brilliant grin that made Keith's whole face light up. Lance had felt something flutter in his chest at the sight of it, and the cocky remark he had been about to make died on his lips.

This particular Galra did not look like he would be especially quick, and Lance had spent his time with Voltron fighting against larger, stronger opponents. This would be nothing new.

He ducked as the Galra took a swing at him, quickly darting forward and landing two sharp jabs on his opponent's ribcage.

The thing Keith had drilled into him was to use his own momentum during a fight – to not stop moving; to never give them an opening – and Lance pivoted quickly around his opponent, dodging the swift uppercut from the Galra's other fist. His hand darted out, and he dropped to the floor – rolling away from another swing before springing to his feet.

For a moment, every single being in the room was frozen. The Galra stared at the knife Lance held to his throat, and the other hopeful participants watched in silence, waiting to see what would happen next.

The large Galra gave a tiny grunt of acceptance, straightening up and raising his hands. Lance held his position for a moment longer before also shifting back into a relaxed stance. He flipped the knife around and extended it hilt first to the Galra.

"I didn't see you take this," he admitted, plucking the weapon from Lance's grip and securing it once again in it's holster at his hip where Lance had snatched it from. He leaned forward, lowering his voice. "All right. You can fight. I'm actually a little curious, now, to see how you fare." He turned around and headed back around the table. "Your friend a fighter, too?"

"Yeah. Like I said before, she's better than I am, so I'm sure she'll keep everyone entertained."

The Galra chuckled. "Right. Well, I need your friend down here to sign in. You'll be spending the evening in the barracks below the pits. We keep the fighters together in one place before a match. Leaves them no opportunity to sneak in anything that would give them an unfair advantage, you know?"

"We have to be down here all night?" Lance tried to keep the dismay from his voice.

"If you want to fight in the match, yes. Both of you."

"Okay, I'll – I'll see where my friend is and get her down here as soon as possible." He stepped aside and pulled out his communication device, typing a quick message to Acxa.

After a moment she replied.

_**I need to know if you've found anything,**_ Lance typed._**Do you have anything right now we can use?**_

After a moment the response popped onto his screen: _**No. I've been shadowing them, and I did see which room he was taken to, but he was surrounded by guards the entire time, and there are four posted outside the door. All armed.**_

Lance pressed his lips together, his fingers hovering over the keypad. He had hoped… _**OK,**_ he typed. _**Then I need you to get down here. We are in the match for tomorrow, but they keep all the contestants in the barracks overnight and we both need to be here if we want to fight.**_ He sent her a tracker to his location.

It was a moment before the response came. _**I will see you shortly.**_

Lance took a moment to close his eyes, breathing in and out deeply as he repeated _Keith will be all right. He can take care of himself_ over and over in his mind, hoping if he said it enough he might actually start to believe it.

Sighing, he finally turned back to the Galra waiting patiently behind his desk. "I just heard from her. She's on her way."

The Galra nodded, typing something into the computer at his desk. "You're only doing this for the paladin, right?" He shook his head. "Everyone wants a chance at him."

"The announcer said '_if he survives._'" It was a struggle for Lance to keep his voice steady and conversational.

"Oh, he'll survive." The Galra's yellow eyes met his with certainty. "We will inform all of you contestants tomorrow, but they make it mandatory for him to survive for as many nights as possible. He's essentially yours to do with whatever you want – as long as he's still alive when it's over." His lip curled in a sneer. "Depending on the damage, they heal him up just enough for the next day, and it continues. They figured the more of us can get our personal revenge out on him, the better. You been thinking of what you'd do to him if you win?"

Lance wound his hands behind his back, his fingers wrapping around the wrist of his one arm as his nails bit into his skin. "Of course," he said, turning away. "You have no idea how much he has personally put me through. I would give him everything he deserves."

Lance's almost-sleepless streak continued while in the barracks. He did manage to get a few hours, but it did little good. Sleep did not matter, however, since by the time someone came to wake the contestants and prepare them for the day ahead, the anxiety and adrenaline coursing through him was more effective than any restful night of sleep ever could be.

They were given an opportunity to wash, and after being fed a meal consisting of some kind of gruel that made Lance actually wish for food goo instead, the contestants were gathered in a room where a gruff-voiced Galra explained what Lance had been told the previous evening.

Once he had explained the rules to them – which basically consisted of anything goes, and if you are killed or mortally wounded in combat, you are out – he took a moment to shift his gaze around the room, giving each of them a stern stare before he continued.

"You are all here for the paladin," he began, pacing before them, his hands casually held behind his back. "You all want an opportunity to spend time with him, uninterrupted, for whatever reason – but hear me." He stopped and faced them. "Whatever you may do to him, you are to keep him alive." He held a hand up against a scattered burst of protest. "You think you are the only ones who wish to get their revenge against Voltron? Keep him alive so he may be presented night after night, because that, my friends, is the best way to get revenge. That is how we crush him. By destroying his hope that there will ever be an end to this."

Acxa's hand gripped Lance's, her sharp nails biting into his skin, but whether it was to hold him back or to hold herself back, he wasn't sure.

"To whichever of you wins the match, you will be given a time of one varga to get yourself clean, or rest if you so choose," the Galra informed them. "The prize will be escorted to the service room where he will await your arrival. You are permitted to invite up to five friends or colleagues during your time with the prize, and as you know, you will have 6 vargas, starting the moment you enter the room. There will be guards posted outside the door to prevent anyone else from entering or, more importantly, to stop the prize if he should try to escape. You will be provided with all manner of equipment, so you needn't worry about bringing anything with you." He chuckled. "Get as creative as you want, just remember – he must still be breathing by the time your 6 vargas is up."

The Galra gave them all one more pointed look before he motioned toward the door. "For the match, you will be provided with your choice of weapons and armor from our supply. Now, if you would all follow me, I will show you to the armory."

Lance couldn't feel his limbs.

The last several anxiety-riddled days he'd had, on top of the lack of sleep – _on top_ of the adrenaline coursing through him as they waited to be let into the arena – made his body feel numb.

The air was almost palpable with excitement – radiating off the fighters as they all crammed into the tight corridor. He could faintly hear the noise of the crowd, and knew it would be ten times louder as soon as the door before them opened and they were let out into that dirt-floored pit.

For the first time since he and Acxa had set off for Zaleer, reality sunk in, and Lance realized two things simultaneously:

One, there was a chance Keith had not survive whatever had happened to him the previous night – despite the rules that had been laid down.

And two, there was a very good chance he, Lance, was about to die.

Acxa's sudden grip on his elbow brought him out of the downward spiral his mind was taking.

"Listen to me," she hissed in his ear. "Whatever you do, you can't let him see your face."

Lance's mind was still catching up. "What?" he croaked.

"Keith," she hissed, her grip tightening. "Maybe you know already, but in case you don't…Lance, no matter what, just keep your mask on, because if Keith sees your face, I don't know what he will do – but it won't help our plans."

"What _could_ he do? He's going to be chained like –"

Acxa growled in frustration.

A loud, grinding noise sounded from before them as the door slowly began to rise.

"If he sees you risking your life to save him," Acxa scowled at him. "He will do something stupid. It won't matter if he's chained or not." The door had almost reached the top, and the fighters began to move forward, buzzing with anticipation. Axca was pulled away from Lance as they were swept forward with the group, but he could just hear her voice over the clamor of the crowd outside. "You are his weakness."

Lance moved automatically with the fighters around him, his legs carrying him forward while his mind reeled from her words.

It was stupid, he finally decided. Keith didn't have any weaknesses.

The view from the arena floor was entirely different. The announcer's voice was louder, the sense of danger crackled through the stands like lightning, making Lance shiver. But he moved with the group of fighters, walking steadily across the arena until they came to stand in a single line, the platform looming above their heads.

"It appears one of you will be lucky tonight as well," the announcer's voice boomed through the arena. "Our prize from the previous night has survived to stand before you another day. He may be a little worse for wear, but still…who could pass up the opportunity to spend an evening having a former paladin of Voltron at their command?"

The cheering of the crowd was muffled by the buzzing in Lance's ears as Keith was shoved into the spotlight at the end of the platform.

A deep, dark fury began to form in his chest because _worse for wear_ was probably the biggest understatement he had ever heard.

Despite everything, Keith stood straight and stoic, staring out above the crowd. But Lance was closer this time, and he could see the dark purple bruises that littered his exposed skin. He could see the scratches and bite marks along his shoulders and waist. He could see the way his legs trembled as if he might collapse any second.

Lance's feet had already carried him several steps forward before a blast hit the arena floor only inches away from his shoe, making dirt spray up into his face. He halted, but he could not control his shaking. He could not tear his eyes away from Keith as the crowd fell silent.

A large Galra soldier leaned over the edge of the platform, teeth bared in a sneer.

"Let this be a lesson to all contestants," he called down to Lance. "Do not get too impatient, or you will be eliminated early and without honor." He raised the blaster and pointed it at Lance's head. The crowd jeered, but Lance heard none of it because suddenly Keith's eyes were on him.

He knew his mask and the distance between them would prevent Keith from recognizing him – especially because Lance was probably the last person he expected to see in this place.

But despite Acxa's warning, he wanted to rip the mask off. He wanted to find a way up onto that platform and kill every Galra soldier that stood between him and his friend.

He wanted Keith to know he was not alone in this horrible place.

"Get back in line," the soldier with the blaster ordered, and Lance reluctantly complied, hating everything in that moment.

Hating himself most of all.

Lance had been dismayed to learn there were no guns of any kind available in the armory. It made sense, of course: They wanted the fight to be as up close and bloody as possible. The audience would have found no entertainment in watching him snipe all the other contestants in a couple ticks.

He was even more grateful, now, for the little bit of training he'd had with Voltron after his bayard had morphed into the Altean broadsword – and the extensive hours he'd spent with Keith sparring hand to hand.

Acxa had selected two curved daggers and some protective gear, and Lance had armed himself with a small knife as well as a long sword. He had secured his hood over his hair, and had pulled his mask back up to cover most of his face.

The other competitors were similarly dressed and armed.

By the time they all squared off, waiting for the signal to begin the match, Lance was convinced adrenaline had completely replaced the blood in his veins.

He didn't have time to form any kind of strategy because the moment the horn blew to start the match, two large fighters were rushing toward him.

They split off…one Galra wielding a sword charging at him head on, while the other – an alien with green skin and yellow spikes protruding from her back, swinging something that looked vaguely like a medieval flail – circled around to attack him from behind.

The Galra lunged at him, and Lance's body moved on instinct, blocking the heavy downward sweep of the blade with his sword. Immediately, he broke away and dropped – rolling away just as the flail whistled over his head, striking the earth with a solid _thunk_. He popped back up – sword in one hand, knife in the other.

_Don't stop moving. Don't give them a shot._

They had obviously targeted him because he was small, and they thought he would be an easy mark to take out early on – to thin out the competition – but they had picked the wrong person to underestimate.

Lance had been underestimated all his life.

As the youngest member of his family, he had always been chasing in his siblings' footsteps, trying desperately to measure up to them and their accomplishments.

At the Garrison, his classmates and teachers had never taken him seriously.

Even with Voltron, he was still just the goofball. The extra. The weak link on the team.

Except…

_Lance, lead the way. Keep the team together._

_And we're gonna do it with the Lance that's the paladin of the red lion. The Lance that's always got my back. And the Lance who knows exactly who he is and what he's got to offer._

_We've come a long way since then._

The two fighters were grinning at him – flourishing their weapons and playing to the crowd. It was supposed to be a show, after all…but Lance didn't have time for that. This was still a fight, and he needed it to be over.

He may not have been as quick as Keith, but he was still faster than these two.

He locked eyes with the Galra and spread his arms out, cocking his head to one side and raising an eyebrow as if to say _Come at me, bro_.

His silent challenge worked as he had hoped. With a growl, the fighter charged him again slicing at Lance with his blade. It became obvious in about two ticks that this Galra had no control over his emotions, and was used to taking down opponents using nothing but his superior strength. The angrier he got, as Lance continued to evade him, the wilder his movements became.

It finally came to a head as the fighter let out a growl of annoyance, thrusting his sword at Lance's face. Lance saw the move coming a mile away and quickly sidestepped the strike, jabbing his knife upwards into the alien's arm as it shot past him – feeling his blade sink into flesh and slice through muscle. He pivoted, yanking the knife from the Galra's arm and, in the same movement, lashed backwards with his sword. The green-skinned alien blinked at him in shock, her arm raised to deliver a blow that never came. Her wide eyes dropped to her abdomen as Lance drew his sword back from where it had penetrated her body between the plates of armor covering her torso. Never stopping – not dwelling on the fact that she would most likely die from that blow – he spun back around, flicking the wrist or his sword hand so the blood sprayed off the blade and into the eyes of the Galra, temporarily blinding him.

He scrubbed the blood from his eyes just in time to see Lance's knife slicing toward his throat.

With those two out of the way, he turned to see who else was left – and specifically to see how Acxa was faring. He spotted her just in time to see her launch herself at one opponent. Her arms latched onto his neck and she used her momentum to swing her body around – her feet connecting solidly with the chest of another fighter, sending him hurtling backwards. One of her daggers flew after him, burying itself in his chest. She wrapped her arms around her first opponent's neck, squeezing tightly until he dropped to his knees in the dirt – crumpling as he lost consciousness.

_Good thing she's on my side,_ he thought wryly, before hefting his blades again and charging at two fighters who were grappling nearby.

Lance dropped to his knees, sliding easily on the packed dirt floor. Using his comparative size and flexibility, he slipped between the two fighters, lashing out low and fast with his sword and knife as he slid past their legs. The two larger fighters broke apart and stumbled away – surprised and bleeding.

Lance didn't give them an opportunity to come after him. While they were still disoriented and reeling from the unexpected attack, he was already springing to his feet and sprinting toward his next opponent.

_Don't stop moving. Use your own momentum to carry on the fight._

He saw Acxa running in his direction and veered off to meet her.

"You're not injured are you?" She was panting slightly, blood splattered across the mask that covered the bottom half of her face, and stained her arms and chest-plate.

Lance shook his head. He was also breathing hard. "You?"

"No." Her voice was determined. "Let's end this."

There were only three other fighters left in the arena, now. One of them – a tall Galra with long limbs and a muscular tail was already making a beeline toward Lance. Acxa gave him a nod and took off toward the other two.

The Galra eyed Lance as he approached, his movements smooth and calculated. He raised one arm, his sharply-curved blade pointing directly at Lance's face in a challenge.

"I've had my eye on you from the beginning." His voice was deep and rough. "I thought you wouldn't last two ticks in the fight, but you've proved me wrong." Cocking his head to one side, his lips curled back in a smirk. "You are obviously not one of us, but there is something vaguely Galra about the way you fight."

Under normal circumstances, Lance would have had a snide remark to throw at him, but he was too tired; too anxious; too focused to engage in meaningless banter.

"Did you come here to talk it out?" He flicked his blade out, splattering the remaining drops of blood still clinging to the metal onto the packed dirt. "You wanna fight or what?"

The Galra's smirk stretched into a sneer – and he lunged forward without warning. Lance only just managed to sidestep the thrust. He brought his blades up immediately, blocking a backhanded slash as his opponent pivoted with lightning speed and struck out at him.

This fighter was different than the others. He was fast and precise – his moves calculated. Against this opponent, Lance knew he would have to be careful. He couldn't let this Galra provoke him because if he let go of his emotions, now, he would probably lose his life.

_It's not just your life,_ he reminded himself. _If you only fight for yourself, you are going to lose._

He settled into the stance Keith had taught him, thanking any deity who would listen that he had trained with someone who was much quicker than he was. Lance knew how to counter speed. He knew to expect a change of direction on a split second's notice. He knew things that would have thrown off most everyone else.

He saw anger flickering below the surface of the Galra's yellow eyes as Lance countered every attack thrown his way.

Finally the Galra's frustration boiled over and he swung his tail out – the appendage digging into the earth and flicking loose dirt into Lance's face.

Cursing, Lance leaped backwards, feeling the rush of air from the Galra's blade as it sliced past his face, missing him by a hair's breadth. The Galra said he had been watching Lance, so he must have seen him pull this move earlier and thought to use it against him.

He swiped one hand across his face, hurriedly brushing the dirt from his eyes – bringing his blade up just in time to block a downward sweep of the heavy sword.

The two of them froze – their blades locked. It was a bad position for Lance to be in. The Galra towered over him, pressing down with all his strength as Lance fought to keep his blade from slipping.

It was no use, though.

Lance broke away with a grunt, hoping the sudden lack of resistance would cause the Galra to stumble or fall on his face.

He ducked back, dodging out of the way…but he wasn't quite quick enough as the tip of the Galra's sword caught on his facemask. Regaining his balance, the Galra snarled and flicked his wrist, trying to dislodge the weapon.

The mask covering Lance's face was torn from his head. It skittered across the packed earth of the arena, and Lance gritted his teeth, spinning around and raising his blades to block the attack he knew would be coming.

But the attack never came.

His opponent was staring at him with wide eyes, blade poised in the air. Lance glared up at him as the Galra slowly straightened out of his fighting stance and leveled his sword at Lance's face.

"I know you. You're – you are the red paladin of Voltron."

His voice was loud enough to fill the arena – and suddenly everything went silent. It was as if the crowd was holding a collective breath of anticipation.

Overcoming his initial surprise, a sneer split the Galra's face. "Did you come here to rescue your friend?" Pivoting, he swung his sword around, stepping back and pointing the blade up at the platform. He commanded the attention of all present, playing to the crowd for all he was worth; relishing in this new, unexpected turn of events. "You have failed, and you will die knowing that you left your precious teammate at my mercy…and I am not feeling merciful today."

Lance didn't want to look, but he forced himself to raise his head – looking upwards until his face was fully exposed to anyone standing on the platform. Acxa's warning be damned…there was no hiding his identity, now.

Keith was poised at the very edge of the platform, his shackled hands raised and his eyes wide with horror. The moment his eyes fell on Lance's face, something inside him seemed to snap.

He let out a yell, wrenching his arms apart – the chain binding the shackles together bending – giving – _breaking_ with a satisfying snap. Keith whirled around, his yell turning to a growl as he lunged at the Galra soldier standing closest to him.

The soldier was too slow to react, and the blade at his hip was in Keith's hand.

Blood sprayed out – splattering the platform – as shrieks and gasps sounded from the crowd of spectators as the soldier dropped heavily to the ground in a lifeless heap.

Everyone was clamoring and yelling – trying to get a better view – but Lance could see everything.

He could see the blind fury behind Keith's movements as he launched himself at the other three soldiers with him on the platform. He saw each stroke of the blade as it hits its mark. He saw each drop of blood spraying from the soldiers' wounds – showering the platform; staining Keith's hands in a deep, angry red.

He saw the briefest moment of panic in the soldier's eyes before they fell, one by one – knowing they never stood a chance.

He saw his own desperation and wrath reflected in Keith's face as he stooped down and grabbed a blaster from one of the fallen Galra, stalking to the edge of the platform with purpose.

_You are his weakness,_ Acxa's voice whispered through Lance's mind._ No power in the universe strong enough to hold him back…_

Keith stood at the edge of the platform…injured and beaten, blood coating his skin and dripping thickly from the blade in his left hand. He was terrifying and deadly…but all Lance wanted to do was take him in his arms; to wash the blood from his skin and tell him he was safe.

Keith raised his right arm – his movements controlled and deliberate – and aimed the blaster at Lance's opponent.

For a moment, nobody moved. The entire arena was holding its breath. It was so quiet, the sudden sound of the doors located around the pit scraping open cut through the silence like a gunshot.

Lance turned just enough to see soldiers entering the arena from all around, moving slowly and carefully toward his position in the center of the floor.

Lance's opponent had noticed the soldiers as well. Turning, his eyes briefly caught Lance's with a gleeful gleam before he focused his attention back on Keith.

"Do you know what will happen if you kill me?" The lanky Galra was far too calm, given the fact that he was currently being held at gunpoint. "You think you are so tough – such a fierce little fighter – but you have made a grave mistake." He gestured to Lance with one sharp claw. "You have shown how much you care for the safety of the red paladin. You have no more cards to play, little half-breed, because I would wager my life you would do anything to keep him from taking your place as the winner's prize." He lowered his arms, gesturing around the arena. "You can see he is surrounded. If you shoot me, they will open fire – and either you will die, and he will take your place, or he will die and your efforts will have been wasted." He paused, letting the words sink in before tilting his head, as if considering another angle. "Or," he added, "is that what you want? Wouldn't it be nice to give your body a chance to rest and recover from the previous night? To have someone else take your place?" His eyes flicked to Lance again, and Lance wanted to shiver as those yellow eyes slid from his feet all the way up to his face, slowly and pointedly. "If I recall, the red paladin is second in command – and I could certainly work with this."

Keith's hand holding the blaster dropped like a stone. The weapon slipped from his fingers and fell twenty feet to the arena floor in a puff of dust.

"Good," the Galra said mockingly. "Now, declare me the winner. I want to hear you say that I am the champion of this match, and you will do whatever I say."

"Keith, don't you fucking dare!" Lance was shaking with fear and rage. "I'm still in this fight," he snapped at his opponent. "We are going to finish this the way it was meant to be."

A shot whizzed past Lance's head from one of the soldiers positioned behind him. It grazed his cheekbone, leaving a long line of blood that welled up and started to drip down toward his jaw.

"You are the winner. I will do anything you ask."

"Keith, no –"

"Just don't hurt him. Leave him out of this, and I will do anything you tell me to."

_You are his weakness,_ Acxa's voice whispered.

Lance felt like his body was cracking – breaking apart at the seams. "Keith, please…It doesn't matter what happens to me, just don't –"

"Agreed." The Galra's blade slid back into the sheath at his hip, and he pivoted sharply, leveling a self-satisfied smile at Lance. He sauntered forward, never breaking eye contact until he came to stand parallel to Lance. "You look like you want to kill me," his voice was no longer loud enough for the crowd to hear. This was for Lance's ears, only. "But choose your next actions wisely. They will reflect upon how your friend is treated in the next six vargas."

"I will make you pay for this." Lance was seeing red. His fingers wrapped so tightly around the blade in his hand, it felt like an extension of his own body.

"Not today, little lion."

"If you fucking touch him I will –"

The Galra was suddenly leaning down – his yellow eyes only inches away from Lance's. His words, a whisper in Lance's ear: A threat; a promise. "Oh, I am not going to touch him. He is the half-breed son of the woman who murdered my sister. He is the leader of Voltron. No, I am not going to touch him…I am going to break him."

**Three Months Ago:**

_Lance ran to the window as the ball of light streaked across the sky. Whatever was falling, it was large and coming in fast – too fast. Lance flinched away from the window as the object crashed into the field he had just planted, sending up a wave of earth as it skidded to a stop._

_He was out of the house and racing across the yard before he even realized what he was doing. As he neared the field, he was able to make out the shape of a single-person ship amidst the speckles of fire that littered the mounds of earth around it – wings broken off and cockpit window cracked. _

_He could just make out the shape of a figure inside, and after briefly assessing the damage done to the hull, he deemed it stable enough to climb up and pry the cockpit hatch open._

_But it was wrong._

_Everything was wrong._

_His mind wouldn't allow him to accept the scene that met his eyes as he looked down into the ship's cockpit._

_Everything was red – but this was the wrong kind of red._

_Red was Lance's favorite color. Red always made him feel happy and warm._

_But this red was flashing warning lights across the ship's dashboard. This red was the screech of the alarm from the ship's system failures._

_This red was spreading and pooling across the grooves in the floor._

_This red was running from a wound in the pilot's chest, dripping off the chair and hitting the floor in thick, heavy drops._

_The pilot…_

…_who was red._

"_Keith, no –" Lance didn't even recognize his own voice. He was climbing into the cockpit, his shaking hands reaching out. "No, no, no, no, no!"_

_His face was directly in front of Keith's now, and eyes slowly opened – bleary at first, but clearing as they focused on Lance._

_Lance was crying. Every fiber of his body was trying to scream in protest…in denial and rage and grief._

_Because there was too much red…_

…_and he knew._

_Keith's hand was on his cheek._

"_I wanted to see you." Lance would have recognized that voice anywhere, in any intonation. But he had never wanted to hear it like this – hoarse and weak and full of regret…_

_Keith's eyes were on his, sorrowful and soft. "I wanted to say goodbye."_

"_But you're not going anywhere."_

_Keith only smiled at him, his fingers slipping off Lance's cheek; his hand dropping to hang limply beside the chair._

"_No, Keith – you're staying with me." Lance knew it was hopeless. He knew he should be saying goodbye. He knew he was wasting time in denial, but he couldn't let go. "You can't leave me like this. You can't leave me all alone."_

_But Keith's eyes were already going dull. His face was pale and the movement of his chest was stilling. _

_Lance felt the world spinning out of control. He felt a scream rising through his body. _

_The sky cracked open and rain poured down on him like a tidal wave, and –_

– _Lance was in his bed._

_His heart was pounding, and he couldn't breathe. His hands were reaching out in front of him, but there was nothing there._

_He was in his room. He was in his bed. He had had a nightmare._

_But he could still see Keith's eyes going dark. He could still feel Keith's touch on his cheek. He could still hear Keith's voice whispering goodbye._

_Lance's legs could barely hold him as he stumbled out of his room and down the stairs. He burst through the front door, expecting to see a crashed ship in the nearby field – expecting fire and blood and –_

_But there was nothing._

_The night stretched around him, calm and serene, broken only by the occasional sound of whatever nocturnal creatures lurked in the darkness._

_He wasn't sure how long he stood there, just catching his breath and staring out into the night. After a while, the door behind him creaked open and two figures came to stand on either side of him._

"_Mijo_,"_ his mothers voice was gentle and concerned. "Are you all right?"_

_He felt his father's comforting hand on his shoulder. "Was it a nightmare?"_

_His parents would understand. They had grown accustomed to Keith's visits. His father always commented on how much he enjoyed having Keith around to help out – how he was impressed by how busy that boy liked to keep. His mother never said outright, but Lance knew how much she enjoyed Keith's presence from the little smile she sometimes wore in secret as she watched them all eat and laugh and talk around the dinner table._

_They knew how much he had helped Lance, and they knew of his lonely past. In the two years since they all had returned to Earth for good, they had come to consider Keith a part of the family._

_They would understand why the dream was having such an effect on him._

_Lance pointed with a shaky finger to the field beyond. "I dreamed that a ship crashed just there. When I ran to see if the pilot had survived…it was Keith. I tried to help him but he was bleeding…" He shook his head, trying to erase that image that still haunted his thoughts. "I watched him die."_

_His mother made a soft, sympathetic sound. "You're worried about your friend, but it was just a dream."_

"_I know, Mom, I just…" He felt the panic rising in his chest again. When he continued, his voice was a whisper. "But it's not like it couldn't happen. Something could happen while he's on a mission. Something could go wrong, and I will never…" He couldn't finish the sentence._

_Out of his peripherals, he saw his parents exchange a glance._

"_Lance," his father said softly. "The next time you see him, you should tell him these things. Or," he added. "Why don't you join him on his next mission? I'm sure he'd be happy for the company. Maybe that would help put your mind at ease."_

_Lance was silent, considering those words. He'd be lying if he said he hadn't thought about doing just that._

_His mother patted his arm gently. "Why don't you come back inside? Send Keith a message in the morning and ask him when he'll be back to visit. You know that boy is always welcome here."_

_Lance let out a shaky breath, bordering on a chuckle. "Yeah. Yeah, you're right. I'll do that. I'm…I'm sorry for waking you both up."_

_His mother's arm wrapped around him, and she gave him a little squeeze before turning him around and guiding him back into the house. "No need to apologize. Just get yourself back up to bed, and I'll make you something special for breakfast tomorrow, okay?"_

_Lance gave both his parents a brief but strong hug before trudging back up the stairs to his room. His legs were still a little wobbly, but his parents' company had helped calm him down._

_The minute he lay down in his bed, however, the images returned – blood dripping off the pilot's chair…seeping into the crevices of Keith's armor…his hand falling limply at his side…_

_Lance was reaching for his phone, breathing shallowly. It took him several tries to type the words in correctly._

_**When I say vol you say…**_

_It was less than a minute before his phone pinged and the corresponding answer popped up._

_**Voltron**_.

_Then an image replaced the words on the screen. Lance had managed to snap a picture of the exact moment Kosmo materialized out of thin air, about to land on top of Keith. Lance had set it up in his phone so that every time Keith called, he would see that image. It made him laugh every time he remembered the shriek of surprise Keith had uttered as the big ball of blue fur and slobber came hurtling toward him from above._

_The frozen image of Keith's face was replaced by the real thing as Lance answered the video call. Keith's hair was messy and he blinked sleepily at his phone._

_It was suddenly, painfully obvious to Lance that he had just woken him up._

_And of course he had. It was the middle of the night._

"_Hey, man, I'm sorry –" Lance began. "I didn't mean –"_

_Keith rubbed his eyes, making a soft grumbling noise at the back of his throat. "Don't worry about it. You okay? Was it a nightmare?"_

"_Are __**you**__ okay?"_

_The worry in Lance's voice must have been far too apparent because suddenly Keith looked more awake and attentive. He tilted his head slightly to the side, his eyebrows pulling up. "Yeah, of course I am. I mean, I probably look like death right now, but that's just 'cause…"_

"_Okay." Lance didn't really know what he was doing. Keith obviously would prefer to be sleeping than talking to him. But his mouth didn't seem to share the same guilt. "Okay, good. Because I just watched you die in my dream."_

_Keith went still for a moment, just staring at him. Then, quietly, "You had a nightmare…about me?"_

_The soft bewilderment in Keith's voice was too much for Lance to process in that moment. "Yeah," he chuckled nervously. "I had a dream you crashed in the field by my house. You were bleeding everywhere. You were dying and I knew there was nothing I could do to stop it and it felt so real. It felt so real, and I think it's because I know…I know it could actually happen at any time. You're out there risking your life every day and I guess my subconscious is just telling me that I don't…I don't want to lose you." He let out a shaky breath. "I just…needed to know you were okay. I'm sorry I woke you up."_

_Keith didn't respond right away, and when Lance looked up at him he had the oddest look on his face. Finally, he shook his head slowly._

"_You don't need to worry about me, okay? You have enough to worry about already, so don't add me into the mix."_

"_Well, it's not like I can pick and choose who I worry about." Lance was calming down again – seeing Keith's face, even if it was just through a screen, was comforting. He chewed on his bottom lip for a moment, wondering why the next question seemed so hard to ask. He'd asked it so many times before without any issue, but now – tonight – it seemed…more. Maybe it was the fact that they were both in their respective beds, and it was the middle of the night. Maybe it was the fact that the dream had affected him more than any others he could remember. Maybe it was Keith's messy hair and sleepy eyes, and the fact that he had responded immediately to Lance's text. "When…are you coming home?"_

_Back. He had meant to say back. When are you coming back? When are you coming to visit? When will you be returning to earth? When is your mission going to be over? Any of those would have been appropriate questions – but the word home had slipped out involuntarily._

_Keith gave him a small, sleepy smile. "Soon. We're almost done here – maybe another movement or two – and then we have to report back to Kolivan. If he has something else for us, we'll leave immediately, but if he doesn't we'll head straight to Earth. I know Acxa wants to get back as much as I do."_

_A slow grin stretched across Lance's face and he wagged a finger at the screen. "Acxa's excited to see my sister because they're dating. If you want to get back as much as she does…that must mean I am your poor, lonely sweetheart just pining away, waiting for you to return from the battlefield." His grin broadened and he snorted a laugh. "Should I be writing you sad, heartfelt letters?" He put his hand to his forehead dramatically. "My dearest Keith," he intoned. "The days have been long and lonesome –"_

"_Lance –"_

"– _without the warmth and comfort of you in my bed."_

"_Lance –"_

"_I long for the day when you shall return to my arms, and –"_

"_Sweetheart_."

_Whatever else Lance had been about to say died in his throat. He gaped at Keith, trying to hide how much that one word had affected him._

_He hid it poorly, however, because Keith's mouth was curving in a grin, and his eyes glittered with an expression that clearly stated 'Two can play at this game.'_

"_Yeah, I thought that would shut you up." _

_Lance let his face slide into a pout. "How rude."_

"_If you're done –" Lance could tell that Keith was trying to sound annoyed, even though he actually wasn't. "I probably should get back to sleep. It's an early start tomorrow."_

"_Oh. Yeah. Of course." It wasn't like Lance had wanted to stay up the rest of the night talking to Keith. That totally was not what he wanted to happen. "Let me know, you know…about when you'll come to visit."_

"_I will. And Lance?" There was just the slightest shift in Keith's expression – the smallest change to the tone of his voice that had Lance holding his breath in anticipation._

"_Y-yeah?"_

"_There's something…" Keith faltered and tried again. "I mean, I would like to…" His gaze darted down then quickly back up. "Can we talk? When I get back to earth…can we talk? Just you and me?"_

"_Yeah, man. Of course."_

_Keith gave him a hopeful smile before ending the call – and Lance was left staring at his own face in the reflection of the screen._

_When he tried to fall asleep again after that, he couldn't. His heart was beating too fast – but for a completely different reason. _

_The next time he saw Keith, he was standing on a platform above a Galra fighting pit._

**Present Day:**

Lance was losing his mind.

He had awoken in a cell, his head aching from the blow that had knocked him unconscious.

He knew from experience that there was no escaping a Galra prison. There was no flaw in the design; no crack in the walls. No secret passage. But that didn't stop him from trying every possible thing he could think of to break out.

He kept seeing his opponent's face in his mind…hearing the words he had whispered in his ear.

His knuckles were bruised and bloody, because after he had tried everything else, the only thing he could think to do was beat his fists raw against the unforgiving plane of the door.

It was the only thing that kept his mind from imagining what was happening to Keith at this very moment.

He needed a distraction, because no matter how he looked at it, this was his fault.

He had come here – entered the match – to win; to save his friend, but he had failed.

He hadn't been enough to keep Allura from sacrificing herself.

He hadn't been enough to save Keith.

He couldn't even do something as simple as keep his mask on during the match – and Acxa had been right. The minute Keith saw Lance's face, he had done something stupid.

He slammed his fist again into the door, hearing the satisfying clang echo down the deserted hallway.

Keith was going to hate him. Keith would never forgive him – and he shouldn't. This was unforgivable.

This was worse than losing Allura – because she had chosen her fate. She had left them to save everyone. She was gone, and that had left a huge, dark hole in Lance's heart knowing he would never see her again.

But it hadn't been his fault. He may not have mattered enough to make her stay and find another solution, but it had not been his fault.

_You have failed, and you will die knowing that you left your precious teammate at my mercy…_

He slammed his fist into the door again with a broken cry, the shock of the impact reverberating up his arm and into his shoulder.

What was happening right now? What were they doing to Keith at this very moment while he was stuck in here, helpless and trapped?

_I am going to break him…_ the Galra's voice whispered in Lance's mind, yellow eyes flashing and teeth bared in a predator's grin.

Lance needed to get out of the cell. He needed to do something. He needed to fix everything.

But what could he do?

He fell forward, his arms pressed to the door, his head hanging down as he tried to breathe.

"Please…" His voice was small and broken. "Please, I need help. I can't do this…I can't…please –"

_Red –_ He sent the thought out into the universe in desperation. _I need you. Keith is in danger, and we need you. Please!_

But he knew, even as he thought it, that there would be no reply. The lions were gone. Everyone was gone.

Lance was alone, and Keith was going to die.

He thought he heard his name – faint and urgent – but dismissed the thought immediately. No one was here. He was trapped, and no one was –

"Lance!"

His head snapped up because he had not imagined that. He knew that voice, and it was close by.

"I'm here!" He pounded his fist against the door twice for good measure.

Footsteps sounded from outside the cell, faint, but getting closer. They stopped in front of the door.

"Stand back."

Lance pivoted away, pressing his back against the side wall of the cell. There was a hiss, a spark, and then he watched with wide eyes as the metal of the door began to glow red-hot. A moment later something slammed into the door and it was flung open, the locking mechanism reduced to molten metal.

And then he remembered.

He had given orders to Shiro in case he and Acxa had not checked in by the time they arrived on Zaleer.

Shiro.

Shiro…and Acxa – who must have escaped somehow after the match.

Shiro and Acxa.

Lance strode out of the cell with renewed purpose and urgency.

"Lance, are you all right?"

He brushed off Shiro's question with a wave of his hand, turning to Acxa. "Do you know where they've taken him?"

"Yes. After Keith agreed to that Galra's terms and they knocked you out, they let me and the other one left alive just leave, guaranteeing us both a spot in tomorrow's match." She was already grabbing Lance by the arm, dragging him down the corridor of the prison. "It's the same room as before, but he's been there for at least two vargas already, and there are four guards posted outside, as before."

Lance shook her hand off, hurrying to keep pace with her. "It doesn't matter how many guards there are." He glanced back at Shiro who was keeping step with them. "Do we have any weapons?"

Shiro gave Lance a grim, tight-lipped smile as he un-holstered a gun from his hip and handed it over.

"Acxa contacted me as soon as she was able to. She told me everything that has happened. I thought you might need this."

Lance's fingers slid around the smooth metal, feeling the weight of the gun in his hand. Yes. This was exactly what he needed right now. "Pidge and Hunk?" he asked.

They had reached the end of the corridor by then, and Lance's question was answered for him.

It was a little strange to see his two friends back in armor, holding weapons and preparing to fight.

Lance nodded a greeting to them, but spared no time for anything else.

"Okay, here's what's going to happen," he said, keeping his voice low – his senses on full alert in case they were spotted. "Acxa, you are going to take Shiro and me directly to the room where they are holding Keith. We will kill the guards and anyone in that room. Pidge and Hunk – you guys will keep watch and find us an exit route. We will need to get him back to our ships as quickly as possible – and avoid detection if we can help it. They are not going to give him up easily, so if we are spotted, there will be trouble." His voice dropped dangerously low. "If we are seen and they try to stop us – we kill anyone who stands in our path."

"Lance –" Hunk's voice wavered in concern.

"You didn't see him. You didn't see what they did to him!" Lance was shaking, his eyes fierce and intense. "You don't know what they're doing to him right now! We kill anyone who stands in the way."

Acxa gripped his arm and he glanced over at her. Whatever had stood between them before in the years prior was gone, now. He knew, even if the others were hesitant about his orders, Acxa was with him one hundred percent.

Lance turned back to the others, looking first at Pidge and Hunk pointedly. His eyes found Shiro's next and he gave a sharp nod. "Let's go."

Acxa took the lead – Lance and Shiro bringing up a close tail, while Pidge and Hunk followed behind.

"Lance," Shiro murmured as they hurried down the dimly-lit hallway. "How…how bad is it? What should I prepare myself for?"

Lance gave him a quick glance before turning his attention back on the path before them. Fury seethed in his chest and gave him renewed strength and purpose. "When you see him…you will agree with my order to kill them all. Prepare yourself for that."

There was silence after that. No one said a word as they followed Acxa through the underbelly of the arena.

Knowing it was just as pointless as trying to contact Red didn't stop Lance from reaching out mentally as he ran.

_Keith_ – he thought fiercely. _Just hang on a little longer. We're going to find you and get you out of here, I promise._ He pushed down the fear and anguish twisting inside his gut. He shoved aside the image of Keith standing on the platform – bruised and blood-spattered, eyes burning with murder.

He focused all his attention on conjuring up the image of Keith's face the last time they had spoken on the phone.

Messy hair.

Sleepy eyes.

A soft smile.

_Can we talk…just you and me?_

And even though he knew Keith could not hear him, he sent the thought out – picturing it winding through the corridors and passageways under the arena. _We'll talk. We'll talk about whatever you want. And maybe I'll even be able to find the right word for what you mean to me. Just hang on._

_Just hang on because I can't lose you. _


End file.
